


The Phoenix of Alexandria

by Sforzie



Series: The Phoenix of Alexandria [1]
Category: Final Fantasy II, Final Fantasy IX, Final Fantasy VI, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy X, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Crossdressing, Flappers, Kuja gets all the D, M/M, period realistic sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 87,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sforzie/pseuds/Sforzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 1920s crossover/AU set in the eponymous city of Alexandria. Amidst the roar of the 1920s, a lively young man gets himself involved with the darker side of the city when he goes looking for a new job...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
July, 1923

A man with long blond hair and a scowl on his lips sat in a darkened office. Outside, it was raining, and thunder occasionally vibrated the thick glass panes of the office’s windows. The man did not see it--curtains were drawn over the windows, blocking out the scenic view of Theater Street below. The man was staring out over his desk at another figure who stood by the door.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yes, sir, most certainly.” The standing man was tall and imposing, with amber eyes and dark skin nearly the color of cocoa powder. His expression was set in an unreadable mask, and his lips barely moved when he spoke. “All of my sources brought back the same results.”

“You trust them?”

“You do, sir.”

The blond man frowned. He slowly laced his fingers together, gaze never leaving that of the man at the door. The lamplight gleamed on the black and silver signet ring the man wore on his right hand.

“I see. What a pity, then. I was almost starting to like her.”

“She was seen having dinner with Rufus Shinra last night at the Midgar Club. There were plenty of witnesses.”

Thunder rumbled outside. The blond man grimaced briefly before recomposing himself.

“Well, then.” The man cleared his throat. “Ansem, please see to it that Miss Fine is properly notified of her termination with the company. We won’t be needing her services here any longer.”

“Yes, Mr. Palamecia.” The dark skinned man began to turn to the door.

“And, Ansem?”

The man paused. “Sir?”

“Do make sure she’s let go cleanly. I don’t want another incident like with Maria.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

 

It was a rainy Friday afternoon in the city of Alexandria. A young man in his early twenties stood at his bedroom window and stared out at the busy streets below. He gave an exaggerated sigh before turning away from the window. He was a delicately handsome thing, with silky violet hued hair cut into a rather effeminate bob. The young man cast a look to the occupant of the second bed in the room, who was barely visible since he had the covers pulled up to his ears. After a minute, he gave another dramatic sigh. The occupant of the bed shifted slightly.

“What’s eating you, Kuja?”

“Oh, so you _are_ awake!” The young man--Kuja--bounded from the window to the bed and sat heavily. The bed’s occupant gave a grunt.

“Of course I am. It’s impossible to sleep when you’re in here.”

Kuja reached and tugged the covers back enough to expose the man’s head and shoulders. “Come on, Sephiroth, you can’t sleep now. It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

Sephiroth half-rolled to press his face into his pillow. “I’m tired.”

Kuja sighed again, this a softer, more resigned sound. “When aren’t you?” He got up and returned to the window. “I wish it would stop raining. I was gonna go shopping this afternoon.”

“What for?”

“I need a new dress for tonight.”

“You already have ten crammed in the closet.”

Kuja waved a hand. “I know, but I need a new one! I can’t keep wearing the same thing out to the club every night!”

“You don’t have to go to the club every night.”

“Says you.” Kuja watched the rain trickle down the window glass for a moment, and then went over to the closet. He opened the door and looked inside, pushing past numerous button-down shirts and vests and jackets. In the back of the closet was his collection of dresses--nothing he himself was ashamed of, but his parents both looked down on him dressing like a woman and dressing like a flapper. “Maybe you need a girl? I mean, Ziddy’s got Ruby and Garnet and Bl--”

“Does he have girlfriends, or is he casing jewel joints?”

Kuja laughed and stepped back out of the closet. “I’m sayin’, you need to get out more. You should come with me to the club tonight.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Sephiroth pulled the covers back up. Kuja shook his head and paced back to the bed. He stooped and pressed a kiss to the other man’s forehead.

“You can’t stay in here forever, you know.”

“I can try.”

 

After dressing and making himself properly presentable to the world, Kuja went downstairs. He lived in a decent sized townhouse in the decent part of Alexandria. However, living in a family with six boys meant that quarters were always close and somewhat uncomfortable. Kuja had been sharing a bedroom with his older step-brother Sephiroth since the family had moved into the home nearly a decade before. Kuja was twenty-two now and could have moved out of the house, but he wasn’t entirely keen on living by himself. 

“Where are you going? It’s raining out, you know.” Kuja’s mother, a small woman whose dark violet hair was streaked with premature gray, was seated at the kitchen table. She had a cookbook open in front of her.

“I know.” Kuja smoothed his hands down the front of his vest and straightened his tie. “I’m just going out for a walk.”

“You should go looking for another job.”

He retrieved an umbrella from the holder by the kitchen door. “I have a job, mother.”

“Pretending to be some floozy at a speakeasy is not a job, young man!”

Kuja opened the back door. “It’s a jazz club, mother.”

Her voice followed him outside. “That’s not any better!”

 

Kuja opened his umbrella as he made his way down the front steps of his home and onto the sidewalk. The city of Alexandria was a bustling place, full of college students and tourists. It had seen a population boom in the last few years as veterans of the Great War came to the city to start a new life. Kuja had always lived in Alexandria. To him the city was home. He made his way down the sidewalk, minding puddles and generally ignoring the noise of the streetcars and automobiles and carriages that made up the traffic on the main roadway. He knew from months of experience that, if he didn’t get stopped along the way, it would take him nine minutes to walk from his home on Treno Street to his destination on Theater Street. He was nearly there--only a block away and passing the Cyclone Theater--when a man in a police uniform stepped in front of him and stopped his progress.

“You’re in a right hurry today, aren’t you?”

Kuja sighed and tipped his umbrella back enough to see the officer. “Zidane, what do you want?”

His younger brother adjusted his dark blue cap and gave him a sheepish smile. “What, I can’t say hello?”

“You probably shouldn’t loiter out here in that getup,” Kuja said, gesturing at his dress blues. “That’s just begging for trouble.”

Zidane turned his head slightly in the direction of the theater. His dark blue eyes glanced up to the darkened windows above the theater entrance. “That was kind of the idea.”

“Are you supposed to be casing the joint out or something?” Kuja snorted. “It’s a theater, not a speakeasy.”

“Shows what you know,” his brother said. “The Palamecia family owns this place, along with almost everything else on this street. They’ve got some of their offices upstairs, there.”

“You can’t just hang out here and get on their nerves.”

“Technically, I can, until they start shooting at me.” He winked. “I’m a decoy today.”

“A decoy?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to make them uneasy, while not actually doing anything.”

“Sounds productive.” Kuja shifted on his feet. “Well, have fun with that. Don’t get killed.”

“Where are you headed off to?”

“Where am I ever headed off to?” He pointed down the street. “Gonna go see Seymour.”

“The Zanarkand, right? Palamecia owns that place, too.”

“None of my business.”

Zidane sucked at his teeth and turned his face toward the street. “Just be careful. They can’t keep the cops at bay forever.”

Kuja grinned down at his brother. “Then, I’ll just have to make sure I’m not there the night that happens, right?”

“If you say so.”

“See you later, Ziddy.” Kuja gave a little wave before weaving around his brother and continuing down the street.

 

The Zanarkand was one of the better known clubs in Alexandria. Its exact purpose had changed over time, from one sort of dance hall to another, and now it was mostly known for having big bands and jazz music playing at night. The club was also known, though no one publicly admitted to such a horrible thing, to have a speakeasy located on its second floor. That was a newer business that its owner had only expanded into when Prohibition had gone into effect a few years earlier. When Kuja arrived at the Zanarkand a few minutes after parting ways with his brother, he found that the front doors of the club were locked. That was no real surprise to him, since it was early. He went around to the side of the building and made his way down the alley until reaching the side entrance to the club. He let himself in using a key, and after making sure the door was locked behind him, Kuja left his umbrella by the door and made his way down the darkened hallways until he found what he was looking for.  
A man was standing near the private staircases that led up to the second floor and down to the basement. He was holding a bottle of soda pop in one hand, and a handkerchief in the other. The man was tall and slender, his presence graceful and self-assured despite his present disheveled appearance. His dark blue hair was a mess, and he was minus a tie.

“You’re a mess,” Kuja said in greeting. The man paused in daubing at his forehead with the handkerchief and smiled.

“Say, there’s a pretty face in an ugly place.” The man stooped a bit and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s cheek. “Is it still raining?”

“Afraid so.” Kuja followed the man as he headed up the stairs. He allowed himself a peek at the man’s rear-end, admiring the way the dark gray fabric of his trousers pulled over that part of his body.

“You’re here early.” As the man entered a small office, he took a final gulp of his soda and set the empty bottle down in a bin with several others. He sat at his desk. Kuja stood on the other side of the desk. He tilted his head back and looked at the slowly rotating ceiling fan.

“I was just thinking maybe we could go and get something to eat, before you get busy.”

“We could order in,” the man said.

“Seymour...” Kuja sighed. “Are you embarrassed by me?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“We never go out anywhere together.” Kuja crossed his arms. “You’re ashamed of me. Or, of yourself.”

Seymour’s brow wrinkled. “You know that isn’t true. I just... can’t.” He waved a hand at Kuja. “Besides, I still have things to do before opening tonight. Biggs is out sick, so I have to move everything for the band myself.”

“I could help.”

Seymour gave a snort. “You can barely move a chair, let alone something bigger than that.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I’m not some pansy little girl.” 

“Kuja... come here.” He gave his knee a pat. Kuja didn’t move. “No, really, come here.” 

After a moment, Kuja uncrossed his arms and rounded the desk. He sat lightly on Seymour’s leg. “You’re an asshole, you know.”

“You love me anyways.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Seymour smirked. “I didn’t say it was.” He leaned in and kissed Kuja. The touch was gentle, and yet Kuja was well aware of the possessiveness of the gesture. “Why don’t you do me a favor and help me get cleaned up?”

Kuja cocked his head to the side and cast a look down the other man’s front. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day for that sort of thing?”

“Nonsense.” Seymour pinched at Kuja’s thigh. “It’s never too early in the day for that sort of thing. Who taught you that sort of nonsense?”

He shrugged. “Just seems indecent to do it while the sun’s up.”

“God can see what you’re doing, even if the lights are off.”

Kuja couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you think God’s watching me blow your whistle, Seymour?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he likes to admire his handiwork.” He gave Kuja another pinch. “Don’t you dare breathe a word of that to my mother.”

“I haven’t met your mother, hon.”

“Hopefully we’ll keep it that way. Now, why don’t you--” Seymour clenched his jaw shut as a loud knock sounded on the door. “Damn.”

“Mista Guado! Hey, Maestro, the ice truck’s here for the evening delivery!”

“Yes, Wakka, alright. Go ahead and let him in. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kuja slipped off his boyfriend’s lap as Seymour sighed through his nose. “Guess we’ll have to save that for later, huh?”

Seymour stood and adjusted his suspenders. “Tonight, perhaps, after the club is closed.”

“That late?”

“Maybe you can stay the night with me.”

Kuja smiled. “I think I can wait until tonight, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning: This chapter has smut in it. You have been warned.

Chapter Two

By nightfall the rain had ended, leaving only a muggy sullenness and the croaking of frogs. Kuja dressed and put on his make-up, ignoring the occasional muffled commentary from his step-brother. He waited until his parents were distracted by the evening radio program, and then slipped out the back door and into the tepid night. Despite the warm weather, he wore a coat over his dress. It was only a nine minute walk to the Zanarkand, yes, but he’d rather get there without any harassment. A few months before, he had asked Seymour for permission to stash a few dresses at the club so that he could change there. Seymour had, rather prudishly in Kuja’s opinion, turned down the request.

He managed to make it to the dance hall without incident. It was always nice when that happened. Kuja let himself in the side door, as before, and went upstairs. The room adjacent to Seymour’s office served as a small break room for the employees of the Zanarkand. When Kuja got there, two of the speakeasy’s bartenders were sitting and having a smoke. They didn’t say anything when Kuja entered the room. They waited to speak until Kuja had removed his drab brown coat and hung it up on a hook. Underneath he was wearing a sparkling blue dress that tickled at his thighs and knees with its fringe. He had worn it plenty of times before, but it was always well received. 

“Hey there, Pretty Boy. Wearing the blue rags today, I see.” The bartender snorted. “Good choice, the boss’s favorite color is blue.”

The other bartender smirked and elbowed the first. “Yeah, but he already knew that. Didn’t ya, Pretty Boy?”

“Of course I did,” Kuja said. He went over to the mirror and inspected himself. He smoothed his hair down and made sure the front of the dress wasn’t lying improperly over his flat chest. “If me wearin’ a dress makes you boys uncomfortable, that’s your problems.”

“Hey, I can enjoy the view just as well from any other piece of tail.” The first bartender took a drag off his cigarette. “You just do your job and keep those pushovers thirsty and we’ll all be just fine.”

“I always do my best.” He pursed his lips, checking to make sure that the layer of dark red on them hadn’t smudged.

“Bet you do.” The other bartender wagged a thick finger at Kuja’s backside. “The bootlegger’s gonna be here tonight, Pretty Boy. You better make sure he leaves happy.”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“Yeah. We don’t need to worry about one of his ‘connections’ coming to break someone’s arms because their manager isn’t happy.”

Satisfied with his appearance, Kuja turned away from the mirror. “You idiots would be lucky to escape with just broken arms. You remember what happened to Edge.”

“Never did find all of him.” The bartender clucked his tongue. “Damn shame, too. He could mix a mean martini.”

Kuja laughed and waved at the other men. “I’ll see you boys on the floor, then.”

“Knock ‘em dead, Pretty Boy.”

 

Kuja wasn’t quite sure if he could explain why he enjoyed dressing like a flapper and dancing the evening away with a bunch of slightly intoxicated strangers. He wasn’t sure if it was something that could be explained--he simply liked doing it. He knew from experience that men were stupid and easy to play with. He had a figure that most real flappers would kill for, and over the last few years he had learned the best way to use it. This line of work was not something he had ever considered when he was younger and still in school. He supposed that the war had changed that. The war had changed a lot of things.

The war hadn’t made him like men, though. That had always been there. Even in school, he’d preferred the broad muscled backs of his male classmates to the flirty curves of the girls. That was just how he worked. It was not something he worried about back then, and it certainly wasn’t something he was about to start being concerned over now.

Now was for drinking and dancing and probably getting fucked by the end of the night--by Seymour, if no one else.

Kuja spent the next few hours dancing. He danced with everyone--men, women, it didn’t matter as long as they were just as swept up in the music as he was. He felt exhilarated and alive and absolutely fantastic. Eventually the early crowd began to filter off and head home, to be replaced by the younger bunch that would be up long past midnight. Kuja used this changeover as a chance to head upstairs and check on things in the speakeasy.

It was almost as crowded here as it had been downstairs. People filled the tables and the bar stools, all cheerfully ignoring the law and getting as drunk as their change purses would allow. Kuja spotted Seymour standing at the end of the bar. He was more properly dressed now--jacket and tie on, hair slicked back. He had a cigarette clenched between his teeth and an irritated look on his handsome face as he stared down at another man. This second man was much shorter--shorter than Kuja, even--and animatedly waving a notebook at the proprietor of the Zanarkand club. Kuja could make out the end of what the shorter man was saying--perhaps shouting was a better term--as he approached the bar.

“And I pay them off just as well as the Emperor does, so I don’t want to hear any bitching from you. You understand me, Maestro?”

Seymour was growling something out in response when he noticed Kuja’s approach. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth. “Hey there, Kuja. Having a good night?”

“My dogs are barking, but I can’t complain.” Kuja leaned up on his toes and gave Seymour a quick peck on the cheek before turning his attention to the other man.   
“Hey there, Keffy.”

The shorter man had stilled in his tirade, and now had the notebook held pressed to his chest. He was a small, pale fellow with black framed glasses perched on his pointy nose. The man was giving Kuja an openly appraising look.

“Well, hey there, doll. I was hoping you’d be here tonight. You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know that?”

“That’s what you always say,” Kuja said and waved a hand at the little man.

“And I always mean it.” He winked at Kuja. Seymour cleared his throat.

“Kefka, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d prefer to finish this business discussion at a later time.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Kefka did not remove his gaze from Kuja’s face as he held the notebook out to Seymour. The taller man quickly snatched up the notebook and tucked it into his jacket. “I just need to go check on the inventory downstairs, if that’s alright with you.”

“Fine by me.”

“Kuja, why don’t you come down with me and help me count? I could always use an extra pair of eyes.” Kefka gave a low chuckle. Kuja smiled at him.

“No problem.” He looked at Seymour. “See you later, Seymour.”

His boyfriend gave a little nod and looked away.

Kuja waved at Seymour before following Kefka down into the basement. When the heavy old oak doors closed, the raucous music and noise of the upstairs was quieted, and for a few moments all he could hear was the click of his heels on the stone floor. Ahead of him, Kefka hit a switch and illuminated the lone wooden wall of the basement in a soft yellow light. There were a few posters hanging here, along with a small table bearing the weight of several empty soda pop cases. Kefka felt along the wall until his fingers caught on the edge of a hidden door. He pulled it open and waved Kuja through. Another light was glowing on the other side. Kuja gave the barrels lining the walls a passing glance, and followed Kefka into a small side room. Inside was an old wooden desk with several drawers. A few ledgers were stacked on the edge of the desk. Aside from an accompanying chair, the room was empty.

“I’ve missed seeing you, doll, where’ve you been?” Kefka closed the door behind them after turning on the light. He took off his cap and glasses and set them on top of the ledgers. Underneath his cap was a little flop of a blond ponytail.

Kuja shrugged. “Been busy doing this and that. You know, trying to make a little dough so I can get out of the house.”

Kefka went over to the desk and opened the top drawer. Behind a stack of papers was a small jar of petroleum jelly. “You know I could help you out with that.”

Kuja gave a little laugh as he sat on the edge of the desk. “I ain’t like that, Keffy, you know that.”

“I’d take care of you, doll, really.” Kefka pretended to pout for a moment, before gesturing at his companion. “Turn over so I can get the good side.”

Kuja stood and turned to face the desk. He leaned over the edge of the old, worn wood and rested his chin in his palms. “You’re practically old enough to be my father, Keffy.”

The older man snorted softly as he pushed up the shimmery blue fabric of Kuja’s dress. “Since when has that meant anything? I’ve got a house, and money. I’d treat you right.” He worked down Kuja’s short, nearly ladylike drawers.

“Until you get shot,” the younger man muttered. He yelped as Kefka’s palm swatted his bottom. “Why don’t you stick to treating me right for right now, alright?”

“Oh, I’ll stick you with something.”

Kuja gasped softly as the jelly coated tip of one of the bootlegger’s fingers pushed into his exposed asshole. The slick stuff was cold from being down in the basement, and Kuja couldn’t help but shiver as a second finger pressed in next to the first. Kuja tilted his head to look over his shoulder. Behind him, Kefka had freed his cock from his trousers. The hand that didn’t have two--now three--fingers fucking Kuja’s hole was busy stroking his cock to attention. His cock wasn’t terribly long, but it was by far the thickest that Kuja had ever come across. Already the older man’s foreskin had retracted, and Kefka’s pale fingers were coating the head in a mixture of petroleum jelly and precum. Kuja groaned and wiggled his bottom a little.

“I’ve missed this as much as you, doll, but have a little bit of patience.” Kefka leaned over him and flexed his fingers. “I bet you’ve been itching to have me stretch you out, right?”

“Wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t want it,” Kuja said.

“Well, good. I’ve got a few weeks of catching up to do with your sweet ass.” Kefka’s cock bobbed eagerly as he let it go. After applying a coating of jelly to his member, Kefka pulled his fingers free from Kuja’s ass. “I think you’re ready, doll.”

“Then, fill me up, big boy.” Kuja waggled his bottom at the older man. Kefka chuckled, one hand grabbing at his hip to hold him in place as he guided the head of his cock to Kuja’s hole. Despite the preparation, the thick tip was more than he was expecting. Kuja let out a little hiss as the head of Kefka’s cock began to spread him open. He adjusted his position, fingers gripping at the edge of the wood and chest pressed against the desktop. His own cock was pressed between his thighs and the front edge of the desk. 

Kefka did as his partner had asked, slowly sawing his hips for a few minutes, until finally he had pushed the entirety of his fat cock into Kuja’s ass. The younger man was panting, his fingers tightly gripping the edge of the desk.

“Oh, fuck!” Kuja’s voice was little more than a breathy gasp. “I always forget how big it is!”

“Glad to remind you.”

For several minutes Kefka worked at Kuja’s tight hole. Kuja was quite certain that his brain was turning to mush as Kefka fucked him. The older man slid in and out of him, and when Kefka nearly pulled out of him, he groaned at the loss. Then Kefka would plunge back into him again, filling his hungry hole. Kuja’s body was wonderfully tense, being wound tighter and tighter by Kefka’s thrusting.

“Oh, fuck, fuck me,” was all he could manage to gasp out, over and over again. Kefka seemed quite eager to give him what he wanted. All the way in, his balls pressed close, then nearly all the way out again. All the way in, then out completely, leaving him trembling. Then in again, spreading him wide. This went on longer than he could recall. Eventually, the stimulation was enough to make him come, leaving wet trails down his shaking thighs.

Kefka was not yet done. Kuja had always been impressed by both his girth and his stamina. When the fog of the orgasm cleared from his mind, Kuja realized that Kefka had stopped thrusting. Looking behind him, he found that Kefka was watching him, waiting, perhaps catching his own breath. 

“Ready for more, doll?”

Kuja nodded mutely, still a bit too dazed to speak. He could feel Kefka begin to move inside him again, continuing the familiar rhythm of full and empty. It felt strangely wonderful, and the young man did not mind as time ticked by to the beat of Kefka’s thrusts. For a long time Kefka’s movements were almost leisurely, as though the bootlegger had no better business to attend to than the curve of the ass in front of him. When Kefka finally grew close to finishing, Kuja knew it by the quicker, rougher thrusts and the tightening of the fingertips on Kuja’s hips. His motions were vigorous enough to make the desk squeak underneath them. Kefka gave a little grunt as he came, thrusting a few more times and filling Kuja’s insides with warmth.

Kuja remained still afterwards, letting Kefka catch his breath. The older man collected himself and shifted his hips back. Kuja could feel a bit of Kefka’s seed escape his hole and slip wetly down to his thighs. Kefka gave him a pat on the rump.

“Beautiful as ever, doll,” Kefka said, his tone bright. “You might want to clean up a bit before you head back upstairs.”

“You’re leaving already?” Kuja watched Kefka tuck his spent member away. Kefka chuckled.

“I have other deliveries to make yet tonight, Kuja. Though, none so quite as enjoyable as with you.”

The younger man swallowed down a disappointed sigh and pushed himself up onto his elbows. His fingers ached now, after gripping the table so tenuously. He watched as Kefka retrieved his cap and glasses. Kefka leaned and pressed a brief kiss to Kuja’s sweaty forehead.

“Until next time, doll.”

“See you later, Keffy.”

 

Kuja did not leave the little office right away. He wanted to give Kefka time to leave without his coincidental departure being noticed. That, and his legs were still a bit shaky from their sexual romp. He was still leaning against the desk, pondering if there might be anything in it with which he might clean himself, when the office door creaked open again. Kuja briefly wondered if Kefka had changed his mind and returned for a second round, but his mind quickly corrected the notion at the sound of a familiar step.

“I see Kefka had some fun with you,” Seymour said. He closed the door behind him and sat at the desk chair. Kuja heard the clink of his belt buckle. Then: “C’mere. Have a seat.”

Kuja pushed himself up and looked at Seymour. The blue haired man had freed his cock from his pants and had it ready and waiting for him. Kuja knew what he wanted, and felt no inclination to protest. He shifted his feet and bit and squatted until Seymour’s big hands gripped at his hips, pushing the fabric of his dress up and away. Kuja leaned forward a bit, resting his palms against the edge of the desk for balance. His entrance was still stretched from his recent encounter with the bootlegger, and had no trouble accepting a new occupant.

Kuja let out a groan as his ass was again filled. Seymour’s cock was long and sleek--elegant, just like everything else about him. Kuja let his weight drop slightly, and Seymour pulled him fully onto his cock and into his lap. They remained like this for several minutes, Seymour idly grinding his hips up against Kuja’s.

“I love you, you know,” Seymour said after several minutes of silence. It took Kuja a moment to return to his senses and register what had been said.

“I know,” Kuja said.

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” Kuja thought: he might love Seymour a bit more if the blue haired man wasn’t so reluctant to be more forward with their relationship. He wouldn’t admit to anyone that they’d been seeing each other--and sleeping together--for nearly half a year. It was frustrating for Kuja, even though he knew the dangers of being an out couple. He didn’t even want that. He wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted--it was hard to think with a cock up his ass. He just knew, deep down, that he needed more than free booze and platitudes to be happy.

“Stay the night with me, Kuj,” Seymour said.

“Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: Hey, there's more smut in this chapter. But it's like... nice fluffy type smut, so that's a thing.

Chapter Three

A week passed. The weather in Alexandria was much improved, and Kuja admired the bright blue sky and its little fluffy white clouds as he made his way to his favorite deli on Theater Street. Though Kuja appreciated the break in the rain, he could have done without the stifling heat. He fanned his face with his straw boating hat while standing in line. It was early afternoon, and the deli was fairly crowded. As Kuja fished a piece of paper from his trouser pocket and studied his mother’s scrawling handwriting, he idly listened to the conversations coming from the tables around him.

“Hey, maybe we should see a movie tonight!”

“What’s playing at the Cyclone?”

“I don’t know. We saw that Lon Chaney movie last weekend.”

“That was alright. We could see it again, if nothin’ else is playing.”

Kuja looked at the slip of paper again. He sometimes wished he had a normal job, so he wouldn’t be at home during the day to be sent off on his mother’s errands.

“The paper says they still haven’t found that Fine bird.”

“What fine bird?”

“No, stupid, here. Hilda Fine, that girl that’s been missing since Monday. She was working for the Palamecias.”

“Oh. That’s bad business, you know? Didn’t they just have that one girl kill herself over New Year’s?”

“That’s what the word was, yeah. I heard that Hilda girl was shacking up with the young suit at Shinra.”

A laugh. “Well, then maybe his wife bumped off the girl!”

Kuja tuned out the conversation as he reached the front of the line. After getting his order he headed home. Kuja’s mother wasn’t in the kitchen, and he decided it was better not to chance another painful conversation with her. He put the meat and cheese he had picked up at the deli into the ice box and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Kuja was surprised to find that his step-brother was seated up in bed. Sephiroth’s silvery hair was tousled, and the man was rubbing at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“Have another nightmare?”

Sephiroth dropped his hand as Kuja entered the room. “No.”

“You lying?”

“No! Shut up.” He ran his hand over his chin. The older man’s chin and jaw were covered in several days worth of stubble. “You went out?”

“Yeah, it’s a real fun thing, you should try it sometime, Seph.”

The former soldier gave a grunt and drew his knees up to his chest. “I’ll stay inside.”

“You really should go out, Seph. It’s a nice day.” Kuja set his hat on the nightstand by his bed. “You need a shave, though.” Kuja went over to the closet and peered inside.

“You know, Kuja, I’d love to, but I can’t seem to find my razor. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Kuja glanced down. “I needed to shave my legs and armpits. I can’t go out dancing with hair sticking out all over the place.”

Sephiroth’s reply was muttered. “And they say I’m the one with problems.”

Kuja turned and looked at his step-brother. “You are the one with problems, Sephiroth. Don’t try to project something onto me. If I’m happy doing what I’m doing, then I don’t have a problem.”

The older man’s face scrunched into a scowling pout. “I thought you were helping me.”

“I am helping you, Sephiroth. But I can’t stay here forever. There is a place in this world for me, but it’s not in here, babysitting you for the rest of our lives!”

Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m just telling you how it is.” He paced over to the bed. “I have been trying to help you for nearly five years, Sephiroth. I have stayed here, when I could have gone off to school somewhere. I stayed here, for you. But you and I both know that I can’t keep doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because... because that’s not how things are supposed to be.” He reached and gently stroked the top of Sephiroth’s hair. Kuja ignored the way the muscles in his back tensed at the contact. “In a few years, everyone’s going to be done with school and gone, and it’ll just be you left here alone. What are you going to do then, if you don’t get better now?”

“I just can’t,” Sephiroth said in a whisper.

“One of these days, you’re going to have to.” Kuja bent and pressed a kiss to his hair. “That’s why I just wish you’d go outside and get some sunshine on your face for once.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

He sighed. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”

 

On Saturday afternoon, Seymour was alone at the Zanarkand. He was working on rearranging the chairs around the dance floor for what felt like the hundredth time, and generally enjoying the quiet. There were no other employees asking him stupid questions, or Kuja there running his mouth. He liked Kuja, he did, but the younger man seemed to have the ability at times to talk ceaselessly without breathing. He would be more impressed if it didn’t usually occur when he’d been drinking and had a headache.

He was wondering where a missing chair had gone off to when there was a knock on the main doors to the club. They were locked, as was usual, and Seymour ignored the knocking. Didn’t locked doors and a ‘closed’ sign mean anything? There was another knock.

“Honestly, illiterate people these days...” He trailed off when he realized that he recognized the knock. He’d heard it countless times over the last few decades--four quick raps, a pause, and then a fifth knock. “God, help me.”

Seymour went to the front doors and unlocked one of them. On the other side of the doors stood a tall, broad shouldered man. He had long blond hair pulled neatly back from his face, and dark violet eyes that were set in a seemingly permanent squint of disapproval. The man smiled as Seymour pulled the door open.

“Well, if it isn’t the Emperor himself,” Seymour said. The other man snorted and offered his hand.

“Please, Seymour. You know titles are for underlings, and not dear old friends.” He smirked as Seymour shook his hand. “Unless you’d prefer that I call you ‘Maestro’.”

Seymour flinched at the remark. He cleared his throat and peered over the man’s shoulder. “Out and about in broad daylight, Mat? With none of your grunts following you?”

“My bodyguard, you mean?” The blond man looked to his left, and then back to Seymour. “He’s around. I told him he could stay outside, since I’m visiting a friend.”

“You’ve got him well trained, then.” Seymour held the door open and let his friend inside the club.

“Like a cat.”

Seymour shrugged. “So, what brings you out today, Mateus? Care for a drink, perhaps?”

“Some gin, if you have any that wasn’t brewed in your bathtub.”

The blue haired man chuckled as he led the way up the stairs. “Now, now, most of what Mr. Palazzo delivers is usually drinkable. Unless he’s in a bad mood. Then I have to buy my weight in lemons and sugar just to keep people drinking.”

“Still sounds better than what I’ve heard of happening in other cities.”

“Yes, well.” Seymour opened the door to the speakeasy. “This is Alexandria. We have a better image to maintain than some of the other cities.”

Mateus gave a slight grunt of a agreement. Seymour went behind the bar, retrieving a bottle and glasses.

“Pick a table and have a seat, my friend. You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

The blond man sat with a heavy sigh. He almost immediately leaned the chair back onto two feet and rested his heels on the seat of the adjacent chair. “It’s been a long week. A long, bothersome week.”

Seymour set the glasses down and poured some gin into each. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” He pulled out a cigarette case, and was silent until he had a lit cigarette in one hand and a glass of gin in the other. “It’s just so hard to find good help these days. Everyone is a mouthy idiot.”

Seymour sat across the table. “Is this about that Hilda girl?”

Mateus scowled as he took a sip of his drink. “It could be. Need another damned secretary. One who isn’t going to end up sucking Rufus Shinra’s dick after three months.”

“I see.” He took a sip from his own glass. The gin was a bit strong--he’d have to make sure it was properly diluted tonight. “Well, I’m not sure I know anyone who would be fit for the job.” He thought. “I mean, I can think of a friend of mine who’s always going on about his finances, but he’s not really the secretary type.”

“It’s not really a man’s job, Seymour.”

“Well, he’s not your average sort of man.” He wasn’t entirely sure that Kuja wouldn’t accidentally suck Rufus Shinra’s dick if he got drunk enough, but he could probably be warned away from that sort of thing. Kuja wasn’t an idiot. Seymour didn’t have time for idiots. “Otherwise, I don’t really know who to suggest. Anyone here working for me, who isn’t a dancer, is a man.”

“Pity.” Mateus drained his glass, and then shifted his attention to his cigarette. “Well, if you find anyone, send them my way on Monday.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Matty.”

 

That Saturday night was as busy as any other had been since Kuja had started going to the Zanarkand. He danced and danced, until his feet ached and he had to take his shoes off. Then a big man with an ugly tie and too much cologne stepped on his big toe, and Kuja decided to call it quits for the night. He made his way upstairs to the speakeasy and sat on the bar stool at the far end of the bar. The bartender made a point of ignoring him, but Kuja did not honestly mind. He was sitting there for some time before Seymour idly made his way through the speakeasy, stopping to speak to various patrons before reaching the end of the bar. He rested his palms flat on the smooth surface and cast his gaze down the length of the bar.

“You’re stopping early?”

Kuja leaned on his elbows. “Can’t find my shoes again. And my toe got stepped on.”

“I’m sorry.” Seymour looked at him for a moment, then back down the bar. He lowered his voice, and Kuja had to lean in to hear him. “You want to come to my place tonight?”

“Really? It’s Saturday. Won’t you sleep in and miss Sunday Mass?” That was Seymour’s usual excuse for not inviting him over on Saturday nights. He only ever invited him over on Friday nights. Kuja watched Seymour pull out his cigarette case.

“I went to the evening Mass tonight. I think God will understand if I don’t make it on Sunday morning.”

Kuja snorted softly. “You went today? What put that fear into you?”

Seymour struck a match against the edge of the bar and lit his cigarette. “I had a visit with a friend who was having problems, and then my mother called me.”

“I suppose that would do it.”

The bartender set a mint julep on the counter in front of Seymour. He didn’t touch it, and instead Kuja picked it up and took a gulp of the cocktail. Seymour reached and lightly placed his hand to cover Kuja’s on the bar.

“So, will you?”

Kuja cast a brief glance down to their hands. A bit of pink that might not have been from the alcohol and the exertion and the summer swelter crept onto his cheeks. He smiled. “Yeah, of course I will.”

Seymour lifted his hand and patted Kuja’s shoulder. “Good. Were you going back downstairs?”

“Maybe, if I can find my shoes.” Kuja drained the rest of the glass and got a mint leaf stuck on his lip in the process. Seymour smiled.

“Well, what you do is up to you. I don’t think Kefka’s coming by tonight.”

Kuja rubbed at his lip. “Lucky me.”

“I mean, if you wanted him to visit, I’m sure it could be arranged.” At a glare from Kuja, he burst out laughing. “I’m just kidding.”

“Keep cracking jokes like that, and see if I touch your dick tonight.”

 

It was late in the night, and trending toward early in the morning, when the Zanarkand finally closed its doors. Kuja helped the rest of the staff clean up a bit, but eventually Seymour sent them home. He told them it was because it would be easier to clean up with the daylight, but Kuja suspected that it was just because he knew they were worthless at cleaning when they were tired. Kuja watched as Seymour filled out numbers in various books in his office, counted the night’s profits, and locked it all up in a safe. He had started to doze off in his chair by the time Seymour declared that he was ready to leave.

“You sure you’re still up for me coming over?”

“Of course I am,” Seymour said. “Why, are you tired?”

“Maybe a little. I mean, it’s...” Kuja felt around in his coat pockets and pulled out his pocket watch. He squinted at the numbers. “Nearly five in the morning.”

Seymour shrugged. “I’ve had later nights. You could have taken a nap, you know.”

“What, and miss all the fun? Don’t be silly.”

Seymour’s apartment was two streets over from the Zanarkand, in a fairly nice building located in a quiet neighborhood. They walked there, Kuja mincing his steps along the sidewalks and streets because he had never managed to find his shoes. Seymour glanced down at Kuja as he stifled a yawn.

“I’ll make some coffee.”

“We could just sleep.”

“I can still make some coffee.”

“Mm.” Kuja tilted his head. “Seymour, why do you always insist on having to go to the morning Mass on Sunday, if you could just go to the Saturday one instead?”

“Because of my mother,” Seymour said. He pulled his keys out as they approached his apartment building. “We go to the same Mass on Sunday mornings, at St. Alexander’s, and then have brunch together afterwards. It’s the only time during the week that I generally see her any more.”

“So, you won’t be seeing her this morning?” Kuja willed a bit more life into his legs as he followed Seymour up the stairs to the third floor.

“No. That’s why she called me. She’s gone out of town for a few days to visit her sister.”

“Oh.” Kuja chose not to follow up on this, and instead dwelled for a moment on how little he knew about Seymour outside of the club. He followed Seymour into his apartment. While Seymour went into the kitchen and started the coffee, Kuja went into his bedroom. He wiggled out of his shimmering dark purple and gold dress, left it hanging from a door knob, and pulled a gray sleep shirt from Seymour’s dresser drawers. After putting it on, he made his way to the kitchen. Seymour had shrugged out of his jacket and was measuring a scoop full of coffee grounds into a small metallic coffee pot.

“I think, while we wait, that I could use a foot rub,” Seymour said. He looked down at Kuja with a smile. “How about you?”

“Mm, you pet my dogs, and I’ll pet yours.” Kuja stretched his arms over his head and went into the adjacent room. Seymour’s apartment was fairly sparsely appointed, and this room had only a lamp, a bookshelf, a table with a radio on it, and an old sofa. Kuja flopped on the sofa and stretched his legs out.

“Look at you, you’re worse than my mother’s cats. Taking up all the room like that.” 

Seymour sat at the other end of the couch. They faced each other, twining their legs together so that their feet rested in each other’s laps. Kuja took hold of Seymour’s left foot. He tried not to laugh as Seymour’s fingers teased over the arch of his right foot. They sat in quiet for a few minutes, kneading at each other’s tired feet. Seymour kissed at Kuja’s sore big toe.

“My poor dear, however shall you walk again?”

Kuja laughed. “I’ll be fine, once I can find my shoes.”

Seymour smiled as he lowered the other man’s foot and continued working at his toes. “Just because the ladies wear heels doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

“Oh, I have to, Seymour. It ruins the look, otherwise.”

“I doubt that your dancing partners would really mind, after a few drinks.”

He smiled. “You’d be surprised.” Kuja gave a little sigh and wiggled his toes. “No offense to your business, but sometimes I wish I could find a more normal job.”

“Normal?”

“You know. Normal hours, normal pay. Something my mother could be less embarrassed by.”

“If you enjoy the dancing, what does it matter?”

“I love the dancing. I just... I don’t know. Can’t do this forever.” He traced a nail lightly along the bottom of Seymour’s foot. “Is this what you want to do forever?”

“Oh, I don’t know about forever.” Seymour shrugged. “It’s good for now, though. I mean, I’m not one to fret too much about the future. There’s no sense in that.”

“You could plan a little, though.”

“And what are your plans for the future?” He looked at Kuja. “Am I in them?”

Kuja blushed and focused his gaze on Seymour’s toes. “You might be. I mean, I’m not one to be presumptuous or anything.” He let Seymour’s heel rest on his thigh. “Am I in any of yours?”

“You might be.”

Kuja was trying to think of something else to say when the timer in the kitchen went off. He released Seymour’s feet, and then followed him into the kitchen. Seymour pulled out two coffee cups and set them on the counter. He also pulled out a small brown bottle from one of the cabinets.

“My mother used to tell me, when I was younger, that it was foolish to plan for the future, because God would always make you follow His own plans instead.” Kuja scratched at his chin. “That was after my father died, before she met my step-father.”

“I see. Well, those are wise enough words.”

“Yeah. And then the War happened, and everything just... She’s been right, that’s all.”

Seymour filled each cup with coffee, and then tipped a bit of whiskey on top of that. At a look from Kuja, Seymour chuckled and winked at him.

“Helps it cool off faster.”

Kuja laughed. “If you say so.”

They stood in the kitchen, barefoot and quiet, and sipped their coffee. When they were done, Kuja giggled.

“Really shouldn’t be having booze and coffee at this hour.”

“Nonsense.” Seymour set his cup in the sink and wrapped his arms around Kuja’s narrow waist. “There’s always time for booze and coffee.”

Kuja set his own cup down and rested his hands along Seymour’s sides. “It makes me feel kind of warm and tingly.”

“Trust me, that’s a good feeling.” Seymour leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s jaw. The other man sighed contentedly and tipped his head to the side, allowing Seymour access to press kisses to his ear and then down the line of his throat. Seymour’s lips made their way down to his collarbone, and Kuja let out a breathy groan.

“C’mon, bed’s waiting for us.”

 

They went to Seymour’s bedroom. Kuja’s fingers fumbled along the little buttons of Seymour’s shirt as he stood on his aching toes and kissed the older man. Seymour slipped out of his suspenders and worked his trousers off. Kuja finally undid the last of the pesky buttons and pulled back the dark cream colored linen. Seymour slipped off the shirt and tossed it aside, making a soft noise in his throat as Kuja’s fingers felt their way over the muscles of his chest. His breath huffed warmly over the fine, dark hairs that graced the center of Seymour’s chest.

“Let’s get started before the buzz wears off, hmm?”

Kuja nodded. They stripped out of the last of their clothing. Then Kuja pulled open the bottom drawer of Seymour’s nightstand and retrieved a half-empty jar of petroleum jelly. Seymour settled on his back and picked up the jar. Kuja moved on top of him, straddling his waist and leaning down to kiss his partner. Seymour’s fingers kneaded at the supple flesh of Kuja’s ass. He had coated his fingertips in the jelly, and one by one they teased at Kuja’s entrance. The little dancer groaned into Seymour’s mouth as the first finger slid into him.

“Is this what you think about all night when you’re on the dance floor?”

Kuja groaned again, hips jerking to push his ass against Seymour’s hand as a second finger entered him. “N-not all night!”

“Oh, but you do think about it?”

For a moment Kuja didn’t answer, he just remained there, panting softly, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Seymour teased at him with a third finger.

“Hm?”

“Ah! Wouldn’t... wouldn’t you?”

Seymour chuckled. “I suppose so.”

Kuja licked his lips. “I love the dancing, but, yeah, sometimes I can’t wait to get you to myself.” His blue eyes cracked open. “Is that so wrong?”

Seymour made an exaggeratedly thoughtful noise as he pulled his fingers free and rolled them over. Kuja laughed breathily and looked up a him. Seymour smiled. “No, I suppose not.”

Kuja’s body was hungry for more than just teasing, and Seymour was swift to give it to him. Seymour’s hands fixed themselves on Kuja’s hips, lifting him up enough to reach the right angle. Kuja let out a pleased gasp as Seymour pushed in. He wrapped his legs around Seymour’s sides, flexing them and drawing him in deeper. Seymour gave a grunt and leaned down, pressing his lips to Kuja’s.

“To be honest, I think about this, too.”

For some time, this was all that either of them needed--Seymour’s leisurely thrusts and the meeting of their mouths. Kuja’s fingers curled into his lover’s dark blue hair, clenching when his motions hit a good spot. The build up was slow, but it ended quickly. It did not take long for Seymour to peak, his fingers squeezing tightly at Kuja’s hips as he came. He leaned over Kuja, panting, and upon noticing that his partner had not also finished, moved one hand to curl his fingers around Kuja’s cock.

“Can’t leave you behind, hon,” he murmured, nipping at Kuja’s lower lip. He was rewarded with a loud moan from his partner. It only took a few more careful strokes to send Kuja over the edge. Seymour licked his fingers clean, watching with a satisfied smile as Kuja flopped back onto the sheets. “You okay?”

“Yeah... yeah.”

Afterwards, they lay entwined, Kuja resting his head against Seymour’s shoulder. He was drowsy--the buzz from the sex and coffee and alcohol was quickly wearing off. Kuja stared at Seymour’s bedroom window. The first hints of morning light were visible around the edge of the curtains, but they were gray and dulled by an early rain shower. Kuja closed his eyes and listened. He could hear the soft patter of rain on the windows, and the faint whistle of Seymour’s breathing. Beyond that, the outside world was waking up, but those were noises easily tuned out.  
Kuja drifted off to sleep in Seymour’s embrace, but he did not dream.

 

They did not wake up until just past noon. Kuja felt a bit gross after the evening and morning’s extensive adventures, and so he decided to treat himself to a bubble bath in Seymour’s tub. He enjoyed the chance to soak in the warm water, and idly counted the tiles on the bathroom wall. The bathroom door was open, and through it came the smell of banana pancakes and sausages cooking on the stove. The sound of classical music wafted to him from the radio in the sitting room. Kuja felt quite content and wished, to himself, that he could spent more mornings like this.  
Kuja had started to doze off again in the tub when he became aware of Seymour’s presence in the doorway. His boyfriend leaned on the door frame, a dish towel cast over his left arm and an empty glass in his right hand.

“Food’s almost ready,” he said.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Kuja said. He lifted a foot out of the bubbles and wiggled his toes. Seymour smiled.

“You know, I was thinking. You mentioned that you might like to find a job for the daytime hours.”

Kuja lowered his foot back into the water and sat up. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, a friend of mine is looking for some help at his office.”

“What sort of help? What sort of friend? I didn’t know you had friends, Seymour.” Kuja looked up at him. Seymour had busied himself rubbing a water spot off the glass in his hand.

“Just a old friend from my school days,” he said. “He asked if I knew anyone. I said that I’d look around.”

“Office work, huh?” Kuja frowned. “You mean like a secretary? Seymour, I’m not a woman.”

“I didn’t say you were. But I think you’d be capable, and it wouldn’t be that strenuous of work. Probably.”

“I mean, I could use the money, sure. But, I wouldn’t have as much free time as I do now.” He squinted up at Seymour. “That would be okay with you?”

“Hm? Of course. You could work a daytime job and still dance at the Zanarkand in the evenings.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Kuja shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to at least check it out.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Where is this job at?”

“An office on Theater Street,” Seymour said. “I can give you the address before you leave.” He smiled and gestured with the glass. “But, for now, how about you come and have something to eat?”

Kuja smiled. “Yeah, sure. Just let me dry off.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Kuja woke much earlier on Monday morning than he was used to. He ate breakfast with his family, washed up, and set about dressing as nicely as possible. He hadn’t gone to speak to someone for a real job in years, and didn’t quite know what he was doing. Getting the job at the Zanarkand had been easy, no interview or application required. In fact, it had been Seymour who a year and a half ago had asked him if he was interested in getting paid for doing what he was doing at the club anyways. Going to an office to seek out a desk job was something completely out of his area of experience.

Sephiroth sat on his bed, his legs hanging over the side. He watched Kuja as he went through the closet. “What are you getting dressed up for?”

Kuja held up two shirts. “I’m going to get a job.”

“Another job? I thought you were doing the dancing thing.”

“I am, but I’m going to try and get a real job.” He settled on a light gray shirt and pulled it on. Sephiroth frowned.

“Are you going to move out?”

“Hm?” Kuja looked at him over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“That’s why you’re getting these jobs, right? To move out?”

“Well, maybe.” He pulled a gray pinstriped vest from the closet. “I mean, I can’t stay at home forever. One of these days, mother will kick me out.” He shrugged.  
“Maybe I could get a place with Zidane, or something.”

Sephiroth was quiet. “I’d miss you.”

“I know.” He smiled. “You could come and visit me.”

Sephiroth made an uncomfortable noise and kicked his heels at the side of the bed. “Maybe.”

Still only in his shirt and unbuttoned vest, Kuja came over to the bed. He leaned in, catching his step-brother’s face in his hands. “I know you are ill, but you have gotten to be far more spoiled than was ever the intention.”

Sephiroth’s hands moved, pressing his fingertips lightly at Kuja’s arms. “Do you hate me for it?”

Kuja frowned briefly. “What? Of course not. The war wasn’t your fault.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Sephiroth’s. The older man made a noise in his throat and pulled back.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, I just... I don’t know. All those men that died around me, and there wasn’t anything I could do. Why wasn’t I a hero?”

“You came back alive, Seph. That’s plenty hero for me. And I’m sure anyone else would agree.”

Sephiroth nodded as he gave his arms a small squeeze. “Thank you.” He tipped his head back and looked up at Kuja. “You’ll do fine. No one can resist you.”

Kuja laughed and ruffled his hair. “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx me!”

“Ah, well, good luck, then.”

He smiled down at his step-brother. “Thanks.”

 

Kuja finished dressing, brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, and made his way out onto the streets of Alexandria. He looked at the piece of paper that Seymour had scrawled an address and instructions onto the day before.

“’112 Theater Street. Just tell the doorman I sent you.’” Kuja huffed a sigh. “Great. A place with a doorman.”

He found the address with relative ease--it was a nondescript building across the street from the Cyclone Theater. Kuja looked over at the theater for a moment, wondering if his little brother was out and about on ‘decoy’ duty again today. Kuja shrugged and knocked on the main door to the building. After a minute, he heard the sound of a lock releasing, and the door opened to reveal a tall, broad shouldered man. He had dark skin and silvery-white hair. The man stared down at him stoically, and Kuja felt like he was being given a visual inspection.

“Can I help you?” The man’s voice was deep, and barely seemed to manage to rattle its way out of his chest. Kuja cleared his throat and plastered a smile on his face.

“Yes, sir. My name is Kuja Tribal. I was sent here by Seymour Guado to inquire about a job?”

The man continued to stare at him. Kuja could only guess at what was going through the man’s head--his face was a blank mask that gave no hint of what was going on upstairs.

“Wait here.” The man closed the door. 

Kuja waited. Several minutes passed, and then the door opened again. The strange, dark man held the door open wider this time.

“Take the stairs to the second floor. Go to the second door on the right. The boss will see you in there.”

He nodded his understanding and entered the building. “Thank you.” The doorman merely gave a grunt as he stepped out of the way. Kuja looked around the foyer where he had entered. A long hallway extended out of sight to his right. It was punctuated by several doors, and he could hear a woman’s laughter coming from somewhere down the hall. Ahead of him was the aforementioned staircase. Looking around, Kuja could not find any sort of signage that would indicate what sort of business this office was related to. Doing his best to quiet his freshly awakening nerves, Kuja squared his shoulders and headed up the stairs.

On the second floor, most of the doors were closed. The second door on the right hand side was also closed, but Kuja knocked anyway.

“Come in,” a voice said from the other side of the door.

Kuja turned the handle and pushed the door open. He peered into the room, and his eyes settled on a figure seated at a large desk that took up a third of the available space. The figure was of a man, broad shouldered and stern faced, with long blond hair and dark eyes. Kuja looked at the man for a long moment, and then realized that he recognized him. The blond man at the desk--he had seen the man’s photograph and name printed in the tabloids several times over the last few years. Realization of who the man was made panic stab at Kuja’s brain. 

This was a joke. A cruel joke on Seymour’s part, but a joke none the less. There was no way that Seymour would knowingly send him to this office, to meet this particular man. Was Seymour trying to get him killed?

The man had stood, and was staring at him. He was quite tall. Kuja crept into the room, and as he moved closer he saw that those dark eyes were a deep violet. They were set in a squint that Kuja could not determine the nature of. He didn’t really need to. The man gestured at the chair in front of his desk.

“Hello. My name is Mateus Palamecia, though, I am sure you already knew that. Take a seat.” The man returned to his own chair.

Kuja wanted to say, no, this was all a misunderstanding. But he didn’t. Instead, he mutely sat in the chair that Mateus Palamecia had indicated. Mateus Palamecia, supposedly one of the heads of Palamecia family, the most powerful and dangerous family in Alexandria. Kuja tried to ignore the cold, uneasy lump in the pit of his stomach. Mateus was studying him, his hands still and folded on the desk. Kuja glanced around the office again. It seemed too normal. He wasn’t sure what a mob boss’s office was supposed to look like, but he was fairly sure that it shouldn’t look so... ordinary.

“Now, then. How can I help you. Mr. Tribal, wasn’t it?”

He faltered for a moment, doing his best not to stammer. “I was told that you had work available.” 

Mateus nodded once. “Yes, that’s right. I am in need of a new personal secretary.”

“What sort of work does that involve?”

Mateus’s eyes went to the window and the thin curtains that covered it. “The usual things: answering the phone, taking messages, keeping track of my meetings... Running some errands on the side. Keeping your mouth shut.” His gaze went to Kuja’s. “The usual.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any experience in this area, Mr. Tribal?”

Kuja swallowed. “Well, not explicitly. I mean, I’ve mostly just worked odd jobs since I got out of school. You know, waiting tables and the like.”

“Mm. Well, it’s... not terribly difficult work. It is usually given to women, after all.” Mateus frowned. “The part most seem to have trouble with is keeping their mouths shut.”

“I... I see.” He looked down at his hands, meshed together in an anxious lump in his lap. Mateus was quiet for a long moment.

“Mr. Tribal, are you afraid of me?”

Kuja was surprised by such a forward question. He looked back to the other man. “I... must admit a certain amount of apprehension in your presence, Mr. Palamecia. You’re somewhat infamous in town.”

“And yet, you came here anyways.”

“He didn’t mention who I was going to see for a job,” Kuja said, half muttering under his breath.

“He?”

“Seymour Guado, sir.”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

Kuja watched the man for a moment, knowing that he was being watched back. “So, you’re a friend of Seymour’s?”

Mateus blinked. “Yes, I am. We’ve known each other since we were children.”

Kuja murmured to himself again. “He never mentioned you before.”

The older man tilted his head to the side. “And, who are you, with respect to Seymour?”

He clenched his jaw shut. “Just an employee of the Zanarkand.”

“Really? I can’t recall having seen you there before.”

If I had seen you there I probably would have quit, Kuja thought. He gave a weak laugh. “I have a forgettable face, that’s all.”

“Hm.” Mateus’s squint briefly intensified. “Well, you don’t seem like a complete idiot. I’ll have to give Seymour’s judgment the benefit of the doubt. I’ll bring you on in a trial basis, and if you don’t screw up by the end of the week, the job is yours.”

“Really?”

“Yes, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“N-no, sir.”

“Good. All we have to do now is have you sign a little legal contract, and we’ll be in business.”

“A contract?” Kuja blinked. “You had a lawyer draw one up?”

“Oh, no, I did it myself.” Mateus pushed a piece of paper across the desk.

“You’re a lawyer?”

He smiled crookedly. “I’m a defense attorney. I keep people out of prison.”

Kuja thought of the times he had seen a photograph of the man sitting across from him, usually gracing the Alexandrian tabloids in the middle of some ‘missing secretary’ scandal or another. They called him ‘The Emperor’--the handsome, if not cruel frontman of the Palamecia family. Looking at him, Kuja was finding it difficult to precisely match the villain of the tabloids with the stoic figure seated on the other side of the desk. What he could match it up with, after a bit of thinking, was the face that showed up in the newspapers, regularly attached to a story about a big local trial.

“You must be good,” Kuja said. “The papers say you win most of your cases.”

“There are plenty of people in this city who would say I am quite good, yes.” Mateus chuckled, and tipped his head to the side. “And, they would be correct. So, you must understand that my knowledge of legal terms is quite thorough and extensive.”

Kuja watched him for another moment, and then looked down at the sheet of paper. “Fair enough. Now, what’s this contract, then?”

“It is a simple privacy contract, stating that you will not divulge any information regarding my business to other parties, or you will be immediately terminated. Think of it as an omertà for my employees, alright? A vow of silence. We don’t usually put it into writing, but I’ve been having trouble finding good help for my business as of late.”

Kuja swallowed. “And what sort of business do you run, Mr. Palamecia?”

Mateus’s smile was a wide, smug thing. “Why, Mr. Tribal, hadn’t you heard? I’m the Emperor of Alexandria.”

 

Kuja’s new employer set about testing his skills--and patience--almost immediately. Once Kuja had signed the contract--a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo that he wasn’t educated enough to understand--Mateus led him down the second floor hall of 112 Theater Street and into another office. Here there was a desk with a typewriter. He had Kuja sit and type while Mateus paced the room like a caged tiger. He dictated a letter to the acting manager of the Cyclone Theater across the street, mainly complaining about slumping profits and the ugly lettering on the marquee. He seemed satisfied with Kuja’s typing abilities--the younger man was glad now for his mother to have taught him one very long, boring winter--and sent him on another task. Kuja was given a slip of paper to take to the deli down the street. He gave the paper to the man behind the counter. Upon reading it, the man looked uncomfortable and hurried off without a word. He returned with a large brown paper bag, handed it to Kuja, and told him to have a nice day.

He returned to 112 Theater Street, slightly bewildered. When he let himself in--per Mateus’s instructions he knocked twice and then opened the door--the doorman initially ignored him, but upon seeing the bag he perked up and followed Kuja up the stairs. He was starting to worry that he was delivering a severed hand or something worse, but when Kuja returned to the original office he had met his new boss in, the blond man ceased leaning back in his chair and sat up with a smile.

“My, that was quick. Frederick usually makes me wait all day for lunch.”

“For lunch?” Kuja looked dumbly at the bag as he set it on the desk in front of Mateus.

“Of course. What did you think I was having you collect?”

“I don’t know. A hand, or something?”

Mateus laughed, and behind him the dark man gave a snort. “Oh, no, don’t be silly. I wouldn’t keep a hand at the deli. That’s poor taste.” 

He opened the bag, picking up a wrapped sandwich from its interior and holding it out. The dark man went around Kuja and took the sandwich. The smell of it told Kuja it was tuna salad, and the man wasted no time in stuffing the thing in his face as though he hadn’t eaten all day. Mateus was looking in the bag.

“Now, then. What would you like, Kuja? We have egg salad, chicken salad, pastrami...”

“What?”

“It’s your first day, isn’t it? The least I can do is give you a free lunch.”

“Um, chicken salad is fine, sir.”

“Good. Why don’t you go downstairs and fetch some sodas from the lounge for me. Ansem, show Mr. Tribal where the lounge is.”

The dark man, presumably Ansem, nodded and led the way back down the stairs. He said nothing, preferring more to continue stuffing the sandwich into his face. He led Kuja to a room about halfway down the hall on the first floor, past several offices. The lounge was a sparse room with a large table and several chairs. Off to the side was a coffee pot and an ice box. Ansem went over to the ice box and opened it, gesturing at the collection of bottles inside.

“Take two for Mr. Palamecia,” he said, voice still a rumble. Kuja did as instructed and returned to the second floor after picking up three fairly cold glass bottles. Ansem silently followed him back up the stairs.

In the afternoon, Mateus explained that Ansem was really his bodyguard, and that he tended to shadow him wherever he went.

“He does other things for me as well, but mostly looks out for my person,” Mateus said. He was leaning back in his chair again, a heel resting on the corner of the desk. He was slowly draining the contents of the second soda bottle.

“Does your person require a lot of looking out for, sir?”

“Naturally. Half the city wants me incarcerated, the other half is afraid to look me in the eye.” By the door, Ansem coughed. Mateus shrugged. “But, that’s business. You don’t get to be the Emperor without everyone hating your guts.”

“What about the people who work for you?”

“If they hate me, they keep it to themselves.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Everyone is expendable, Mr. Tribal.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and he chuckled. “Myself more than anyone.”

“Why do it?”

He stared blankly at Kuja for a long moment. “Power, money, women. It’s the family business. Take your pick.”

Kuja bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry, sir, was that asking too much?”

“Perhaps just a bit.” He waved his free hand. “It’s your first day. You’re still learning. Tomorrow, I’ll take you over to the main office so you can see your workplace.”

“This isn’t the main office?”

“Mm, no, I have several all over the city, for various purposes.”

“Oh. My brother was wrong about that, then.”

“Your brother?”

Kuja blanched. “Oh, um... yes. He’s...”

Mateus frowned. “Go on.”

Kuja got up and went over to the window. He peered down at Theater Street, and the bustle of traffic going by. He had little trouble locating a familiar figure loitering near one of the sign posts. “He’s down there. By the traffic sign.”

Mateus didn’t move at first. Then he dropped his feet to the floor and stood. Kuja stepped away from the window at his approach. Mateus leaned and looked in the direction Kuja indicated.

“The policeman?”

“Yes, that’s right. He only joined the force a few months ago.”

“I see.” Mateus turned away from the window. “That could be either very unfortunate, or very useful.”

Kuja knew well enough to not ask what he meant by that. According to what Zidane had told him, half or more of the police in Alexandria were being paid off by either the Palamecia or Shinra families--some of them both--to turn a blind eye to the speakeasies and other shady businesses that abounded.

Kuja thought for a few minutes. “Sir?”

“Hm?” Mateus had gone back to nursing his soda pop with his heel up.

“Aside from obviously anyone associated with the Shinra family, is there anyone else in Alexandria I should be careful of while I’m in your employ?”

He considered this, and then smirked. “Yes. My big brother.”

“Your... I don’t follow.”

“He’s the real head of the family. I’m the handsome face.” Mateus rubbed at his chin with the lip of the bottle. “So, avoid him.”

“You don’t get along?”

“Oh, we do, well enough. But, if you’re afraid of me, then he’s probably someone you want to give a wide berth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

 

Mateus spent the remainder of the afternoon instructing Kuja on his bookkeeping preferences, how he liked notations made for his meetings, and other general information relevant to Kuja’s job. Kuja was relieved to find that none of it was very complicated, aside from learning a few code words that Mateus preferred to have noted.

“So, take tonight for example.” Mateus was half leaning over the desk, and Kuja felt like he was back in school being lectured. “There’s going to be a rum runner coming to the docks at the west end of Gargan Road at two o-nine in the morning. I’ve already alerted the appropriate men for this job, so I just need to you to note it over here on the deliveries calendar. At other times, when this sort of thing comes up, I’ll give you a list of people to contact by phone. They’ll get the word out from there.”

Kuja nodded as he looked at his list of codes and abbreviations. He wrote down the information. “Sir?”

“Yes?” Mateus righted himself and paced over to the window.

“Kefka Palazzo, does he work for you?”

Mateus looked at him. “How do you know Kefka Palazzo?”

“Um, I work at the Zanarkand. I’m there usually when he... makes his deliveries. We have a bit of a rapport going, I guess you could say.”

He pulled out a cigarette case and tapped it on the window sill. “I would suggest caution being friendly with that man.”

“Oh. So, he doesn’t work for you?”

“Not directly. Despite his... tendencies, though, he’s a friend of mine. Stand-up, if not a bit _pazzo_.” He gestured at his head. “He likes his independence.”

“Oh.” Kuja looked down at the calendar. Mateus lit a cigarette and took a long drag from it.

“Now then,” he said after exhaling slowly. “Did you get all of that? Rum runner, 2-oh-9, Gargan docks.”

“Yes, sir, I got it all.”

“Good. It’s very important, I don’t need to be forgetting it.” Mateus turned back to the window and stared down at the streets below. “What time is it?”

Kuja looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “Nearly five in the afternoon, sir.”

“Alright. I think that’s enough for today. You’re free to go for now. Report back here in the morning, nine o’clock. I’ll take you to the main office.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

 

Kuja went home after being dismissed. He did his best to ignore the fact that Ansem trailed him most of the way home, before disappearing into the afternoon shadows when Kuja looked over his shoulder. When he went inside, he found his mother in the kitchen, preparing things for dinner. Zidane was seated at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of milk and reading the newspaper. Kuja helped himself to a glass of water and sat across from Zidane at the table.

“And, where were you all day?” Their mother turned away from the cutting board to look at Kuja. He shrugged.

“Getting a job.”

“What sort of job?”

He kept his gaze on the lip of his glass. “Just some office work in town.”

“Well, as long as it’s something better than going to that horrible club all night.” She turned her attention back to the board. “I’m going to run down to the market for a few minutes to get some chicken for dinner. Did either of you want to come along?”

“I’ll pass,” Zidane said. He had lifted his eyes from the newspaper and was staring at Kuja’s forehead.

“No thank you, Mother.”

“Alright. Watch the stove for me. I won’t be gone too long.”

Their mother left. Zidane took a sip of his milk and then cleared his throat.

“So, you got a new job?”

“Yeah.”

Zidane’s jaw worked for a moment. He looked down at the newspaper. “You aren’t gonna lie to me, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I ask you where you got a new job. I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”

Kuja was almost amused at his younger brother’s attempt to be intimidating, but he knew what Zidane was getting at. He brain worked frantically to find the best way to word the answer to the inevitable question. “You’re my brother, Zidane. Why would I lie to you?”

“Then, who’d you get a job with?”

He stared across the table at his brother, having to make a conscious effort to not pick up his glass of water and stall. “Just a lawyer’s office in town. Doing paperwork.”

“Kuja.” Zidane leaned forward. “I was on decoy duty this afternoon. I saw you come and go from the building across from the Cyclone Theater twice. You didn’t say hello.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working, that’s all.”

“That building is owned by the Palamecias.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Kuja, I don’t want you getting involved with that sort of thing, with those sort of people. You’ll only get yourself hurt.”

He frowned. “I’m not stupid, Zidane.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Don’t get all uppity with me just because you wear a badge now, Zidane.”

His brother sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Kuja, I just... I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

“I won’t.”

Zidane picked up his glass and took a sip. “Well, did you learn anything interesting?”

Kuja took a drink from his own glass, recalling the previous few hours. He remembered the last thing he had written in the calendar. Knowledge about the rum runner would make Zidane happy. It’d lead to a bust, and that would be good for Zidane, especially if he was the one to bring in the tip. But, he had signed a contract. He had promised to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t want to lie to his brother, but telling the truth might cause more trouble than the good was worth.

“It was kind of boring, really.” He set the glass down. “Mostly just doing secretarial work, you know? Answering the phone, taking letters, going out and fetching lunch.”

Zidane snorted a laugh. “They’ve got you playing secretary? You aught to go in wearing one of your little dresses, I’m sure they’d get a kick out of that.”

Kuja smiled. “Trust me, the thought crossed my mind.”

His brother sighed and shook his head. “Well, just make sure it stays boring, alright? And if anything comes up, you let me know. It’ll be our secret.”

“Of course,” Kuja said. “Family first, right?”

“That’s right.” Zidane got up and went over to the stove. He lifted the a pot’s lid and gave its contents a stir. “You still gonna go to the Zanarkand?”

“Probably.” Kuja still needed to go have a scream at Seymour, anyways. “I still like dancing, and the Zanarkand’s still the best place in town for that.”

“Well, don’t stay out all night if you have to work in the morning,” Zidane said, his tone teasing. Kuja laughed.

“Oh, stuff a sock in it. You’re starting to sound as bad as Mother.”

 

That evening, Kuja did indeed head to the Zanarkand. However, he was not dressed to dance. He arrived before the club opened, and found Seymour upstairs in his office going over numbers in a ledger. He wasted little time in shouting at Seymour.

“I swear, Kuja, I didn’t mean any harm by it.” Seymour’s expression was, in Kuja’s opinion, remarkably unfazed by being shouted at by his boyfriend.

“Mateus Palamecia! He’s a horrible, sleazy murderer, and you just tossed me right at him!”

“Don’t be silly, Kuja, he’s never--” Seymour pressed his lips together. “What I mean to say, is, he’s a good man, and he’ll pay you well.”

“I don’t care about the money, Seymour! I’m more afraid of being shot while walking home now than I am worried about the money!”

Seymour looked down at him, expression still frustratingly calm. “If you were so afraid, they why did you take the job?”

“Because, I’m not a coward.” Kuja was having a difficult time unclenching his fists.

“No one ever said you were, my dear.” He smiled gently. “I would not have suggested you seek Mateus out if I thought it would put you into danger.”

Kuja narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m sorry if I’m having a hard time believing that right now.” He slammed a fist against Seymour’s arm. The older man winced.

“Oh, Kuja. Just think of it as a challenge. And if you do well, you’ll be kept very financially stable. It’s a sure bet.”

He turned away, grumbling to himself. Seymour rested his hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. After a moment, Kuja let out a sigh. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, if you want to keep the job, and you want to keep your head on your shoulders, you just... how does Mat like to put it...” He turned Kuja to face him. “Just do your job and keep your trap shut.” He rested a finger on the bottom of Kuja’s chin. Kuja glowered up at him.

“Gee, thanks, you’re a huge fucking help, Seymour.”

The blue haired man frowned. “I really am sorry, Kuja. I didn’t think it would upset you so badly.”

Kuja huffed and looked away. “Doesn’t do me much good now.” He pulled away and stalked over to the window. 

“Maybe I could help somehow. Do you have any questions I might be able to answer?”

For a moment, Kuja was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he could ask without prying too much. “You’re really friends with him?”

“He’s probably the closest thing I have to a best friend,” Seymour said.

“How long have you known him?”

Seymour made a thoughtful noise and sat on the front edge of his desk. “Let’s see. I moved to Alexandria in 1904, when my father bought the property that he turned into the Zanarkand. I’m not sure why he was so keen on owning a ballroom, but...” He shrugged.

“And Mr. Palamecia?”

“Even back then, the Palamecias were the big name in town. Perhaps more... law-abiding then. Velius Palamecia, may God rest his soul, was a big player in the real estate market then. My father bought this property from him.”

“And then you sold it back when he died?”

“Sort of.” Seymour shrugged. “It’s complicated. But, a short time after I moved here, I met Mateus at school. He’s a year older than I am, but we had the same walk to school. He was... kind. He was born here in Alexandria, like you, so he knew all the spots in the city to show me.” Seymour smiled. “I know he looks intimidating, but he’s really not that bad. I mean, not compared to his brother. Belias is a brute.”

“He said something to that effect,” Kuja said softly. “Anything I should avoid asking him about?”

“He likes to talk about himself,” Seymour said with a laugh. “But don’t be too nosy. He doesn’t like talking about his father. And he doesn’t do well with criticism. So just... take what he says at face value. That usually works.”

Kuja drummed his nails in the windowsill. “Alright.” He half turned to look at Seymour. “And what else aren’t you telling me about yourself that I really might benefit from knowing about?”

Seymour blushed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Kuj.”

“No, I mean it. I’ve known you for two years, and I had no idea that you were friends with this guy.”

“I’ve told you everything that was necessary to know. What are you worried about?”

“I don’t know. I just... this morning really left me rattled.” Kuja frowned. “I was really upset at you.”

“Are you still upset?”

“A little.”

“Hmm. Well, why don’t we go back to my place for a bit before the club opens, and I’ll make you forget about being mad about me.”

 

At two in the morning, a lone figure skulked about in the shadows of the warehouses on Gargan Street. It moved quietly from building to building, down to the docks. Amber eyes scanned the boats there, looking for anything out of place. It was quiet, except for the soft sloshing of the river and the barking of dogs in the distance. The figure remained there for several hours, only leaving just before dawn. 

Mateus was already awake when Ansem returned to his post. The blond was seated at the dining table of his home and sipping from a mug of coffee when Ansem knocked on the door to announce himself. Ansem let himself in and set the morning newspaper on the table.

“So, how did it go? You don’t have any blood on you.”

“Nothing happened,” Ansem said.

“You sound almost disappointed,” Mateus said. He chuckled. “Nothing happened? Nothing at all?”

“It was quiet. The only police was one middle of the night patrol of the warehouses, standard fare. No one approached the docks.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Perhaps he did not speak with the police,” Ansem said. Mateus waved a hand at him before retrieving the paper.

“No, no, I sent that boy past his brother twice. He had to have seen him.” Mateus moved his mug and spread the paper out in front of him. “We’ll test him again later, just to be sure.”

“As you wish, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Pazzo", in addition to being awfully close to Kefka's last name (Palazzo) is also Italian for 'crazy'.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning: Yarr, there be smut in this chapter. Matey. Avast, there be some plundering of booty in these here words.
> 
> Or something. Come for the sad backstory, stay for the smut.

Chapter Five

On Friday evening, with the work week finally ended, Mateus Palamecia decided that he needed to get out. He needed to get away from his offices, away from his peculiar new secretary, and away from his duties. He dressed nicely, and since the weather was nice he deigned to walk to the Zanarkand. He wasn’t one to dance, no, but the lively atmosphere almost always was successful in washing his worries away. Ansem waited outside the building to keep watch and make sure none of his employer’s enemies entered the club.

Seymour greeted him at the door, and he was led by his friend to his usual table. Seymour went to get his drink order in, and Mateus made himself comfortable. He leaned back slightly in his chair as he scanned the room. Being a Friday night, the Zanarkand was crowded with people. There was a band playing, and the dance floor was crowded with men and woman, most of them probably a decade younger than him. The tables that lined the edges of the dance floor were occupied primarily by older men who sat drinking and brooding and eyeing the pretty flesh of the young girls on the dance floor. And there was a great deal of that to be seen tonight. Mateus scanned the tables, and was glad to find that he did not recognize any of their occupants.

Seymour returned with a glass and set it on the table next to Mateus’s hand. He sat at the adjacent chair and turned his head to follow the line of Mateus’s gaze.  
“See anything interesting?” He winked. “Any pretty lady I might be able to call over for you?”

Mateus gave a snort as he picked up the glass. “Please, Seymour, I’m still sober. Ask me again in an hour.”

“Fair enough. Just let me know if anything strikes your fancy.”

 

An hour and a half later, Mateus had finished his fourth glass of what would best be described as gin with liberal amounts of sugar and lemon juice added. He was feeling fairly good about life and the world and the whole mess. The alcoholic buzz and lively music probably had something to do with that. He had been left alone, aside from Seymour and the waiter occasionally stopping by his table. He was feeling quite relaxed--or, at least, as relaxed as he could hazard to get in public. He never really could tell who in a crowd might be his enemy. Here at the Zanarkand, the pretty little flapper girls were safe enough, but the men they were dancing with, and the older men loitering at the tables, were a different issue. Mateus kept his eye on them, idly looking out for any enemies. He knew that Ansem was outside doing the same with those who came and went to the club. He had not received any word that there might be any trouble here tonight--from either the police or Shinra’s goons--so Mateus felt comfortable getting a bit drunk and relaxing.

A few minutes later, Seymour returned to his table, two glasses in hand. He sat next to Mateus and set one of the glasses down on the table next to Mateus’s latest empty.

“You’re still upright, so I thought you could use some more,” Seymour said. He took a sip of his own drink and grimaced. “Having a good time?”

“Oh, just splendid.”

“See anyone that you might like some time with?”

Mateus’s eyes flicked over the dance floor again. “No, not really.”

“That’s too bad. You know I could probably arrange something for you.”

He barked a laugh. “You’re hardly a pimp, Seymour.”

The other man smirked. “No, but I’m quite persuasive.”

There was a lull in the dancing as the band took a brief break. Mateus noticed Seymour’s gaze shift across the dance floor and to the small bar at the end of the hall. Curious, and immediately bored by the people on the dance floor who became awkward with no music to separate them, Mateus followed the line of Seymour’s gaze. Most of the people at the bar were younger men, laughing and having a quick drink between songs, looking out at the lovely flappers flocking on the dance floor. But at the end of the line of seats was a lone flapper. Mateus couldn’t quite blame Seymour for looking. The little dancer was petite up top, but had a very curvy back end. She had shiny violet colored hair in a bob, and was wearing a dark, peacock blue dress whose fringe only served to accentuate her backside. A very lovely view indeed, but there was something slightly off about it that Mateus was too tipsy to put his finger on.

When the music started up again, the flapper looked over her shoulder. She was painted like a pretty little picture, and as she looked at Seymour, Mateus realized that he had seen her before.

It was his new secretary. His new male secretary.

The flapper smiled brightly and gave a little wave at Seymour, which he lightly returned. Then her gaze shifted to his right, to Mateus, and her eyes comically widened. She quickly turned back around, a hand going to her face.

Mateus cleared his throat. “Seymour.”

His friend was sipping his gin. “Yes, Matty?”

“That flapper at the end of the bar there.”

“Yes?”

“That’s a man, isn’t it.”

Seymour chuckled softly. “It certainly is.”

Mateus wasn’t sure what to say about this. What did it say about himself, that he’d been admiring a man’s rear end? He couldn’t really be held at fault for that, considering that the man was dressed as a woman. It did explain Seymour’s lingering gaze, though.

“Seymour, do you and Mr. Tribal have something going on?”

“Well...”

Mateus lowered his voice. “I know you’re... you know, homosexual. You don’t have to lie to me.” He was genuinely curious, and a bit confused, because during the last five days he’d seen no indication that his new secretary might be participating in such deviant behavior.

Seymour was blushing now. He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in to try and avoid being overheard. “Yeah, sort of. We’ve been seeing each other since after New Year’s.”

Mateus arched a brow and looked back to the bar. The flapper was still there, back turned to them. She--no, he, Mateus reminded himself--had his shoulders hunched forward slightly.

“When he said he worked for the Zanarkand, I assumed he meant serving drinks. Not pretending to be a woman.”

“He makes the guys thirsty. He’s a good dancer...” Seymour looked at his friend. “You’re not going to fire him, are you?”

Mateus sighed. “No, I don’t think that would be prudent. Not now, at least. He technically hasn’t done anything wrong in the line of his job.”

Seymour murmured: “Since you own the property, technically he’s been working for you for two years.”

“Very funny.” Mateus picked up his glass and gulped down its contents. He was just finishing the drink when he noticed another figure approach the bar. It was a smallish man wearing thick glasses and a newsie cap. He made his way along the seated patrons of the bar, and stopped next to the flapper. The man leaned in, and Mateus caught a glimpse of his face. He recognized the man as Kefka Palazzo, chief amongst the bootleg racket in Alexandria. A lot of the Palamecia’s many businesses staying watered during the dry Prohibition was due to the man, so Mateus knew he had to stay polite to him. He trusted Kefka, but the man’s presence made him uneasy.

As Mateus watched, Kefka rested a hand at the small of the flapper’s back. The purple haired man turned his face to look at Kefka and smiled. Some of the heaviness left his shoulders, and he nodded. Mateus was aware of Seymour shifting slightly in his seat. The flapper got up, waved briskly at Seymour, and then headed out of the dance hall with his hand tucked into the crook of Kefka Palazzo’s arm. Mateus looked at his friend. Seymour’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were narrowed slightly in the direction of the exit.

“What was that about?”

Seymour inhaled deeply, and then exhaled in a sigh. “Nothing, really. Just keeping the liquor flowing smoothly.”

 

A bit later, Kefka and Kuja were in the basement recovering from a rather frantic round of sex. Kuja had been surprised that Kefka had not immediately packed his things and left, as was his custom, but Kefka had stated a desire to linger.

“I wasn’t always a horrible bootlegger, you know.” Kefka patted his knee, and Kuja shifted so he was seated across Kefka’s thighs, rather than straddling them.

“Oh really?” He knew that had to be the case. Prohibition had only been going on for the last three and a half years. Kefka nodded and pulled out his pocket watch. Its surface was dull and scratched with age, but Kuja could still make out the engraving of an eagle on it.

“This was my grandfather’s, back in the Civil War. He gave it to me when I was little.” He flipped open the lid. The face inside was nondescript, but inside the lid was a faded black and white photograph of a woman with a little blonde girl sitting in her lap. They were smiling in the picture, in that stiff way that people smiled for photographs. Looking at it, Kuja could not help but wonder why Kefka was suddenly divulging this information. He knew better than to ask.

“In the past I was married to a nice, boring woman who collected books and only loved me because I was a librarian.” He gave a small sniff of a laugh. “We had a daughter, a year or two younger than you are, I think. My wife died from influenza in 1912, and I took care of my little girl after that. When Prohibition started, I got involved with the bootleg racket, since it was a lot better money than being a librarian.”

Kuja gave a little smile and nodded.

“A bit after new years last year, the Shinra started trying to pressure me to work for them. They don’t like that I’m supporting the business Palamecia runs, and since I have such sway over the bootleg racket here in Alexandria, they want my piece of the pie.” He frowned. “They got frustrated because I wouldn’t give in to them, so they... to send a message, they...” He faltered, his fingers clenching at the edge of the watch.

“You don’t have to tell me this, Kefka,” Kuja said. Kefka shook his head.

“No, I need to tell someone. And you’re... well, you’re someone, doll.” Kefka swallowed. “My daughter, Quistis, was working as Mateus Palamecia’s secretary. She was walking home from work, when she got grabbed by this red haired Shinra asshole. He beat her to death and left her body in the alley next to the library I used to work at.”

Kuja took his free hand and gave it a squeeze.

“They identified the kid who did it for Shinra, but nothing ever came of it.” He swallowed again and squeezed at Kuja’s hand. “I know I don’t follow the law, but my little girl didn’t do anything wrong.” Kefka sighed. “And after that, I stopped playing nice. I stopped really caring who I hurt, who got killed because of what I did.” He stared at the image in the watch, a frown lingering. “You’re an exception, I suppose.” He looked at Kuja, and a rueful smile appeared on his pale features. “I wouldn’t kill you if I saw you on the street.”

Kuja wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just nodded again.

“Rufus Shinra’s goons told me that if I didn’t change my ways, then they would come for me today. A year after they took my daughter from me.” He licked his lower lip, and clicked the lid of the watch closed. “So, I suppose that I’m hiding out down here so they’ll leave me be for the night.”

“What about tomorrow?”

He looked up at the younger man and lightly patted Kuja’s thigh. “Well, might as well have one last good night, right? I mean, if they come for me tomorrow, then they come for me tomorrow.”

Kuja leaned and pressed his lips to Kefka’s dirty blond hair. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he said softly. “Maybe one day I’ll find that punk and put a bullet in his head, but that’s for later. Maybe.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Kuja was not sure why he felt obliged to make the offer. He was friends with Kefka only in the roughest of senses, but he still felt some pity for the man whose life had taken such an unfortunate series of turns.

“In the long run, you can take care of yourself.” Kefka tucked his pocket watch away. “In the more immediate sense, maybe you can help get me warmed up for another ride.”

Kuja looked at Kefka. Already the sadness was leaving his face, buried under something else that Kuja did not know the name of. He touched Kefka’s cheek and nodded. Kuja leaned in and gave the older man a kiss before sliding off his lap. Kefka caught Kuja’s wrist as he started to crouch in front of him.

“You know, doll, if I die tomorrow, it’ll be with just one regret.”

Surprised, Kuja tipped his head to the side. “What’s that?”

“That we only ever had sex in this little room, on this creaky old desk.”

He laughed softly. “That’s just how this sort of thing works, Kefka.”

Kefka gave his wrist a squeeze. “I’ll make it worth your time, Kuj.”

He blushed. “What did you have in mind?”

 

What Kefka had in mind was to sneak out the service entrance of the club and make their way to a hotel. Kuja checked in under a fake name, paying for the night with a few bills that Kefka had given to him for the task. The man at the registration desk had given Kuja a knowing look, but had the decency not to say anything to his face. It was a fairly nice hotel, and Kuja made an admiring tour of their room when they went upstairs.

“I’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before,” Kuja said as he peered into the bathroom.

“You’ve never traveled?”

“Well, yeah, but my family doesn’t have the kind of money for a place this fancy.” Kuja shrugged and made his way over to the bed. Kefka took the basement office’s jar of petroleum jelly from his pocket before removing his coat and tossing it over the back of a couch. “Well, here’s the bed. Is it what you were hoping for?”

Kefka kicked off his shoes and padded over. “I think it will do, yes.” He set the jar down on the little nightstand and clicked on the lamp. “You deserve better than splinters in your back, doll.”

“With you?”

Kefka began to unbutton his vest. “With anybody. Never forget that--you’re better than most of the jokers around here. Myself included.”

“Your dick has made you horribly biased, Kef.”

He winked. “Maybe.”

Kefka sat on the edge of the bed, watching Kuja as he started to work off his dress. Kuja paused and looked down at Kefka with a grin.

“How about I give you the whole show, hmm?” At Kefka’s enthusiastic nod, Kuja stretched and wiggled to reach the clasp at the back of his dress, and then shimmied out of the dark blue-green fabric. He draped it over a chair, followed by his drawers and headband. Kuja bent over exaggeratedly, pointing his ass in the air as he removed his shoes. Kefka gave a little groan.

“You really are a piece of art, Kuj,” he said. “Ain’t no lady that can hold a candle to your backside.”

Nude now, Kuja stretched his arms over his head. He turned slowly, waggling his curvy hips at the older man as he did so. He heard an appreciative murmur come from Kefka. Kuja bent over, resting his palms on the floor and angling his bottom towards his audience. He felt a bit of a moisture on his inner thighs from where some of the semen from their first fuck had escaped down his upper legs.

“Mm, look at those lovely long legs and that pretty little hole,” Kefka murmured. “I know I was rough with you the first few times we met, but I don’t regret picking you from the crowd, doll.”

Kuja looked at him, nearly upside down, from between his knees. After a moment he smiled. “I don’t regret it either.” He slowly righted himself, stretching his arms over his head again before turning around and crouching in front of the bootlegger. His cock was already half hard, freed from Kefka’s trousers while he watched Kuja’s show. Kuja leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock. Kuja tipped his head to the side and ran his lips and tongue up and down Kefka’s thick shaft. Kefka groaned at the attention, his fingers lightly brushing through Kuja’s hair.

“Oh, you make that look so pretty,” he said.

When Kefka’s cock was ready, Kuja helped the older man out of the rest of his clothes. He spent a minute considering Kefka’s slender, yet firmly built form. He had never seen it before--Kefka had never taken more than his jacket off when they had fucked in the basement of the Zanarkand. He was a smaller man than most that Kuja had slept with--except for his cock, which looked fat and too big when compared to the rest of his body. Kuja didn’t mind.

They sat on the bed together for a few minutes, just kissing while Kefka’s hands explored Kuja’s body. The kisses deepened as Kefka’s hands groped at Kuja’s ass. Kuja groaned into Kefka’s mouth as the other man’s fingers teased at his hole. Their first time that evening had been the usual bent over the desk affair, and Kuja’s entrance was still a little pink. Kefka continued to kiss him hungrily, and Kuja felt a thrill chase up his spine. He hadn’t been kissed with such intensity in years. Kefka kept their lips together as he began to push his jelly coated fingers into Kuja’s hole, catching the younger man’s moans for himself to enjoy. 

When they were ready, Kefka pushed Kuja onto his back. He pulled Kuja’s knees apart, a hand moving to give the younger man’s cock a playful squeeze. Kefka’s hands slipped down to Kuja’s hips, and then his ass, pulling the soft flesh apart to expose his entrance.

“Oh, Kefka!” Kuja groaned loudly as the bootlegger’s fat cock pushed into him with no further preamble. Kefka leaned over him, catching his mouth again. Kuja wrapped his legs around his partner’s back, nearly hooking his ankles together as his whole body squeezed at Kefka’s penetration. Kefka began to thrust, lips going to Kuja’s throat to cover it in hungry kisses.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Kuja’s vocabulary quickly dwindled to three words--oh, fuck, and Kefka--as Kefka continued pumping in and out of him. Sometimes Kefka would stop, pushed in all the way, and just grind their hips together. That was almost more than Kuja could handle, and would reduce him to a faintly whimpering mess. Then the thrusting would continue, harder and harder, making the bed creak and shake underneath them. Then grinding and making Kuja beg for more.

Kefka kissed at Kuja’s neck in the midst of a round of grinding. “Oh, doll, you feel so good. So very good.” He panted softly, then kissed at the corner of Kuja’s mouth. “Would it be wrong if I said I loved you?”

“It seems to be easy to fall in love with me,” Kuja said, having trouble dredging the words from his over-stimulated mind. 

“Good,” Kefka said. “Add my body to the pyre.” He began thrusting again, and the question was forgotten.

 

They had sex two more times after that, each a bit rougher than the previous, in bouts staggered over the next few hours. When Kefka was spent, they laid in bed for nearly an hour, quiet, listening to sound of the late night traffic. Kuja had kissed the older man goodbye, and told him to be careful. When Kuja returned to the Zanarkand, the club was already closed for the night, but Seymour was still there counting the night’s take. Kuja had left his coat in Seymour’s office, so he had to knock lightly on the door and disturb his boyfriend. Seymour looked up from his desk as Kuja pushed the door open.

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

Kuja smiled sheepishly at him. “Kefka was rather demanding tonight.” He shifted a bit on his feet, ignoring the way his ass still smarted from the repeated pounding it had been given tonight by the bootlegger.

“That’s what I figured. He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“Oh, no. None at all.” Kuja picked up his coat from its hook. The movement reminded him of the several ten dollar bills that were tucked into the hem of his drawers. Kefka had given them to him before he left the hotel, telling the younger man to keep himself looking nice. He pulled his coat on. “Just wanted a lot more tonight than usual.”

“Oh. Are you going home?”

“Yeah. I... I’m tired.” He wagged a finger at the other man. “And still a little mad at you.”

Seymour snorted a laugh. “I see.”

He smoothed the front of his coat. “Um, did Mr. Palamecia say anything?”

“About seeing you? No, not really. He seemed slightly concerned that you were going off somewhere with ‘that bootlegger’, but dropped it when I said it was nothing.”

“Oh. Thanks. I don’t need to have to explain all that on Monday.”

Seymour smiled. “You should be fine. Will you be in tomorrow night?”

“Of course.” Kuja smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Kuja was at work bright and early on Monday morning, as requested. When Mateus arrived, he said nothing about their passing meeting on Friday night. Kuja was not sure if he should be relieved or not. He spent much of the morning combing through the Monday papers, checking for news that was relevant to Palamecian interests, as well as looking for small, coded entries placed in the advertisements and want ads. It was more mind-numbing that he would have expected, and after awhile Kuja’s mind wandered back to other parts of his weekend.

“Find anything interesting?” Mateus’s voice boomed as he entered what functioned as his secretary’s office. Kuja gave a little start and looked up at his boss.

“Not much, sir. There was one, um...” Kuja looked at his notes. “’Lost cat, answers to Heartless.’ And a phone number.” He glanced up. “That’s Ansem, right?”

“I wish he hadn’t gotten himself such a distasteful nickname, but yes. Save the phone number for me.”

“Why would anyone call him ‘Heartless’?” Ansem had seemed creepy to Kuja, but not necessarily without feeling.

Mateus smiled thinly. “He earned it doing work on the side for me. It’s no concern of yours.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kuja looked at the paper again. “There were a few Shinra things in here, but they were just announcing gambling results from the weekend.”

“Well, it was a fairly quiet weekend. I suppose I should be grateful. The summer heat usually makes people act ugly.” Mateus went over to the window and looked outside. “This afternoon, I just need you to stay by the phone. I have, what, two meetings scheduled? The participants should be calling to confirm, just jot down whatever names are given you, I’ll pick them up before the meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was there anything else?”

Kuja chewed on his lower lip. “I know it’s a bit soon, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”

“A favor?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a beat, and Mateus said nothing. His reflection in the window showed a blank expression. “If this is about Friday night, I must assure you that I don’t care if you prance about dressed like a woman in your free time, as long as it does not affect your work or my business.”

Kuja blushed. “I-I--” He looked at the desk. “I’m sorry, sir, you shouldn’t have had to see me like that.”

Mateus’s voice was a deadpan. “There are worse ways I could have seen you. At the very least, you pull the look off better than a lot of women.”

Kuja wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. He chose to ignore it. “Thank you, sir. But, that wasn’t what I wanted to ask about.”

The older man half turned to squint at Kuja. “You’ve only been here a week. Don’t you think you’re already pressing your luck?”

“Yes, sir, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, and if I didn’t think it was something within the realm of your... influence.”

He arched a brow. “Go on.”

“You know Kefka Palazzo. I mean--” He hesitated. “I mean, you know what happened to his daughter. Right?”

Mateus’s expression darkened much more than Kuja could have anticipated. “Yes, Quistis Palazzo was one of my secretaries last year. The only woman I’ve hired so far who hasn’t turned out to be a complete idiot.”

“Until she died.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned back to face the window. “Yes, until her face was bashed in by Shinra muscle.”

“You’re sure it was Shinra who did it?”  
“Of course I’m sure it was them!” Mateus turned, his usually expressionless face darkened and angry. He was baring his teeth as he shouted. “I know it was them because after they dumped her body they mailed her glasses to me, from the Midgar Club, along with a coded warning. There was blood on the glasses, and the lenses were broken, and you could tell where they’d hit her in the face.” He turned back to the window, long hair twitching as he made a visible effort to square his shoulders and calm himself.

“Were you two...” Kuja trailed off, deciding it was better not to ask that question.

“She wasn’t an idiot.” Mateus’s voice was low, but calmer now, closer to his usual tone. “Now, what does a dead girl have to do with you asking for a favor when you’ve only worked here a week?”

“Oh, um.” Kuja swallowed. “It’s about her father, actually.”

“Kefka? What about him?”

Kuja considered what he was about to ask. “Shinra has a hit out on him, don’t they?”

There was a grunt from the window. “More than likely. I’m not privy to their plans, unfortunately, but Shinra spent a great deal of... effort... last year trying to get him to work for them instead of us. Why?”

“Because when I spoke with Kefka this weekend, he was quite convinced that they were going to come after him soon and kill him. He said they’d promised to.”

“I see.” Mateus turned and made his way to the desk. He leaned toward Kuja, who instinctively drew back. “Do you do this often?”

“What?”

“Worm your way into the affections of relatively important men, to use them for information?” He gestured at Kuja. “Seymour, Kefka Palazzo, who knows who else...”

Kuja blanched. “How could you possibly suggest that I do that sort of thing? To what purpose?”

“Self gain. That’s how the world works.” Mateus frowned.

“What? No, it’s just coincidence. I had no idea either of them were connected to your family.”

“Really? You said you’ve worked at the Zanarkand for you two years, and Seymour said you’ve been fucking since New Years. How could you not know?”

He shrunk further away from the looming man. “I mean, I knew that the club was owned by the Palamecia family, but what isn’t in town? I never thought anything about it!”

Mateus leaned in closer. “How do I know you aren’t really working for Shinra?”

“Because I wanted to ask you for help protecting Kefka from Shinra’s goons!”

He blinked, brow wrinkling, and leaned away from Kuja. “What?”

Kuja was trembling, horribly afraid that he was about to be ‘terminated’ like every other secretary that had sat at his desk. “I just wanted you to keep him alive. I’d repay you somehow, honest.”

Confusion flickered across Mateus’s otherwise stern features. “Why would you want to keep him alive? He’s a worse person than half of Shinra.”

“Because he’s just had a bad run of things, okay? So, yeah, he kills people to keep the liquor flowing. That’s happening all over the country. Has he ever let your family down? He lost his daughter just to be faithful to the Palamecias!”

Mateus’s expression returned to its usual squinted concentration. “I’m well aware of that. And... no, he never really has been a problem for us. I mean, he hassles some of the property managers. Seymour complains about him at least once a quarter.”

“Please, Mr. Palamecia. You’re a powerful guy, right? It should be nothing for you to find some way to deter whoever is being sent after Kefka.”

Kuja watched his employer silently pace the length of the room, from door to window and back to Kuja’s desk. When Mateus spoke again, his voice was calm.

“No, it would be no real problem. I have someone on hand who is very skilled at various forms of determent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mateus pointed at him. “You will definitely owe me, though. I might have to find a way to put those cozying-up skills of yours to some constructive use.”

Kuja wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but wasn’t about to argue. He just nodded and focused on Mateus’s tie. The dark violet silk seemed safer to look at. As he did, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait a minute. Seymour told you that we were together?”

Mateus blinked and took a step back. “Yes, he mentioned it at the club Friday night.”

“Huh. That’s new.”

“What is?”

Kuja shook his head. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that, we’ve been together for half a year, but Seymour’s never liked to admit that to anyone.”

Mateus rested his hands on his hips. “Well, that does sound like Seymour. He’s very religious, as I’m sure you know. I thought I would go crazy from the bible verses when we were roommates in college. But then his father died, and he dropped out to take over the Zanarkand.”

Kuja nodded. “Yeah. He told me once that his college roommate used to get drunk and scream some verse back at him, though he wasn’t sure why.”

A faint touch of pink appeared on Mateus’s cheeks. “Ah, yes. ‘But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man. For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies: These are the things which defile a man.’” He cleared his throat. “I was getting ready to go into law school. It seemed terribly appropriate when I’d had three or four beers.”

Kuja smiled. “Well, he did seem fond of you. He just never mentioned you by name.”

Mateus shrugged and went back to the window. “He never mentioned you, either. So I suppose that we are even.”

At this, Mateus lapsed into silence. Kuja had noticed that the man had a tendency, sometimes at random, to just stop talking and stare out the window. This had happened at several different locations, so Kuja couldn’t tell if he was just wandering off in thought or looking at something specific. Seeing that this was what Mateus was up to for now, Kuja returned his attention to the morning newspaper and continued combing it for anything his employer might need to know.

After nearly half an hour of silence, Mateus cleared his throat.

“It’s time for lunch,” he said. Kuja blinked and looked up from an article he’d been reading.

“Oh, I’ll go get it.”

“Thank you. And, on your way out, could you tell Ansem I need to speak with him?”

“Of course, sir.”

Mateus smiled thinly. “Thank you, Kuja.”

 

Mateus did not mention Kuja’s request again, and the younger man could only hope that this meant it was being worked on without his needing to know about it. Otherwise, well, he had tried. He himself was in no real position to do anything to save Kefka’s life beyond asking for someone else’s help. Monday and Tuesday were uneventful, and Kuja was glad for that. He spent his days at work doing what he had been instructed to, and doing his best to avoid invoking that flare of anger that he had seen in Mateus on Monday morning.

Kuja was returning home on Tuesday evening, when a tall, tanned, slightly massive man fell into step next to him. Kuja looked up at the man and smiled. 

“Hey, Rude. Long time no see.”

The man’s voice was deep and smooth and sent an old thrill up Kuja’s spine. “Been busy.”

“Same here.” He glanced around. “You still with Red?”

“Yep.”

“You two doing alright?”

“Yeah. We’re doing alright.” Rude snorted. “He hasn’t started dressing like a woman.”

Kuja grimaced and looked toward the traffic. “That’s good to hear.”

They walked, passing Kuja’s front door and continuing down the street. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, even if it’s not with me,” Kuja said. 

“You’re lying.” Rude’s voice was little more than a low growl.

He shrugged. “Maybe, just a little.” He looked up at Rude. “Do you blame me?”

“Not really.”

The walked in silence for a block. “So, where is he?”

“Reno? He’s working a job.”

“Without you?”

Rude grunted. “They needed someone with Reno’s... finesse.”

“You mean the ability to take someone out with a baseball bat.”

“That too.” More quiet, and then Rude cleared his throat. “So, I hear that you got a new job.”

“Hm. Word travels faster in Alexandria than I’d realized.”

“So, you did. With Mateus Palamecia.” Rude’s voice was flat, but Kuja knew the man well enough to know concern in his tone when he heard it.

“I’m fine. It’s just a desk job.”

“You’re not fine. Palamecia goes through help by the season. You’ll be dead in an alley or sinking in a barrel by Christmas.”

“Rude... what do you even care? We aren’t dating anymore.” Kuja crossed his arms over his chest as they came to a stop in front of an apartment building. Rude frowned.

“I still care about you, Kuja. We were together two years. You think I’m going to stop caring just because I dumped you?”

“That’s usually how it works.” 

Rude sighed. “I’m worried about your well being, alright? You can’t get a job working for the Palamecias and expect nothing bad to happen to you.”

Kuja frowned. “Would you have preferred I worked for the Shinra, instead?”

He shook his head. “I would have preferred you didn’t get involved with either of them.”

“I’m sorry, Rude. It’s just how it is. I can’t back out of this, now.”

“You could. You’ve only been there a week.” He leaned and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s forehead. “Please, just think about it. For your well being, not mine.”

Kuja pursed his lips. “Alright, fine. I’ll think about it.”

 

Elsewhere in Alexandria, as the sun was going down, Mateus Palamecia entered the basement of 112 Theater Street. It was a dimly lit space with a cement floor featuring a drain in the middle. It was furnished by a small table in the corner of the room and a lone chair at its center. The chair was presently occupied by a young man whose arms were bound behind him and to the chair. His head had fallen forward, red hair falling in his face and half concealing the blindfold that covered the man’s eyes. Ansem stood by the basement door, black leather gloves on his hands and a satisfied, predatory smile on his face.

Mateus ignored the man and looked at Ansem. “So, this is the fellow?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at the man in the chair. “What did you do to his arm?” Blood had soaked through half of the beige sleeve covering the man’s right arm.

“That was not my work, sir,” Ansem said. “Mr. Palazzo shot him once before I got a hold of him. Fortunately, his aim was not very good.”

“So, he was expecting it?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Mr. Palazzo was quite displeased that I wouldn’t just let him shoot the punk in the head.”

The man stirred a bit, half raising his head. “Well, if it ain’t the Emperor himself,” the man in the chair mumbled. He spat a bit of blood. “I’m fucking honored, yo.”

“What’s his name?”

“Reno Lenson. His family lives in the Treno district slums.”

“Not a huge surprise.” Mateus paced over to the man in the chair. He crossed his arms as he looked down at the red head. “Now, then, Mr. Lenson. Are you ready to have a little chat?”

“Sure thing, old man. What you wanna talk about?” He spat again. “Make it quick, though, I still got work to being doing tonight.”

“I’ll be brief, then. Do you recall a job you did last year, involving a young woman named Quistis Palazzo?”

The red haired head cocked to the side. “Hell, sure I do. That was my first job workin’ for Shinra. Had to prove myself, y’know? Did real good, if you ask me. Boss was pleased.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah! Was too easy, though. Just grabbed the dumb bitch and dragged her out of sight. Didn’t put up any fight.”

“You seem quite proud of yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m good at my job. Ask anyone.” He gave a snort. “I hope you don’t think that offing me is gonna do anything to change things, old man. Your family’s on the outs, and you know it.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion on the matter.” Mateus returned to the door. He looked at Ansem. “Well then, I’ll leave you to your work.”

“You ain’t gonna leave me in here with that Heartless bastard, are you?” The man in the chair sounded alarmed. “He’ll kill me!”

“That’s the point,” Ansem said with an amused grunt.

“Now, now, where’s the fun in that?” Mateus scratched his chin. “Break his legs. Beat the spark out of him.”

“And after?”

Mateus cast a look back at the red haired man. “Dump him on the steps of the Midgar Club. They’ll get the message.”

 

There was a light rain falling in Alexandria on Wednesday morning. Kuja wasn’t sure what it was about the rain, but it set him ill at ease, and the feeling only increased as he made his way to work. When he opened the door to his little office, Kuja was surprised to find that Mateus was already inside. He was standing at the window, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand. Mateus turned at the sound of the door opening. Kuja’s initial impression was that he looked tired, but as he drew nearer, Kuja saw the redness in his eyes and the increase to his existing squint. Was he hung over?

“Mr. Tribal, we need to talk.” Mateus set his mug down on the corner of the desk.

“Of course, sir. What about?”

He folded his arms over his chest, dark eyes fixing in a glare at the younger man. Kuja had no idea what he’d done to deserve the look. 

“I really am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Tribal.”

“Sir?”

Mateus raised a hand to rub between his eyes, before dropping both hands to rest on his hips. He stepped toward Kuja, looming over him. “Last night I received word that you were seen consorting with a man that is known to be one of Shinra’s goons.”

“Consorting with...” For a moment, Kuja wasn’t sure what he meant, but the he remembered his brief conversation with Rude the evening before. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. I’ll give you the fair warning that I’m not in a good mood this morning, so you have about three minutes to explain yourself before I have you terminated.”

Kuja swallowed. He wondered if working for Mateus was always going to be this draining. “I can explain, sir, really. I don’t know what your informant told you, but it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Mateus gave an irritated grunt.

“You see, that man was my ex-boyfriend. We started dating a bit after the war ended, but we broke up about two years ago. After that, I started working at the Zanarkand, and he was hired on as muscle for Shinra.” He sighed softly. “He found me yesterday when I was coming home from here. He just wanted to make sure I was okay--he was only worried about my safety because he’d heard I’d started working for you.”

Mateus narrowed his eyes. “Why would he do that?”

Kuja shrugged. “He’s a sentimental fool.” He offered a little sad smile to his boss. “He’s kept checking in on me since he broke up with me.”

Mateus stared down at him. “You have a very unusual set of connections, Mr. Tribal.”

“Yes, sir, I’m staring to realize that.”

He picked up his coffee and returned to the window. “The paper’s there. Get to work.”

Kuja hesitated. That was it? He was expecting to get threatened or shouted at or something worse. “Yes, sir.”

While he scanned the front page of the newspaper, Kuja did his best not to notice as Mateus leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the glass and groaned faintly. Kuja had a thought and looked through his calendars.

“You have a meeting at ten with your brother, sir.”

“Yes, I know.” Mateus’s tone was sour.

“Did you want me to have it rescheduled to this afternoon, when you might be feeling better?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just need more coffee.”

Kuja read the paper while his boss disappeared off to elsewhere in the building. A few pages in, a small news blurb caught Kuja’s eye. ‘Man, badly beaten, found on the steps of the Midgar Club. Police have no suspects at this time. A young man in his mid-twenties was found beaten nearly to the point of death on the front steps of the Midgar Club on Tuesday evening, just before the club was to open its doors for the night. Officials do not yet have any leads on the perpetrators of this violent crime, but gang violence is suspected. The young man has not yet been identified, and was admitted to Alexandros Memorial Hospital shortly after being discovered. Residents are advised caution, as the perpetrators are likely still in the area.’ Kuja considered this. Mateus had said that when his secretary had been murdered by one of Shinra’s goons, they had mailed him her glasses from the Midgar Club...

He looked up as Mateus returned to the office, fresh mug of coffee in his hand. 

“Mr. Palamecia...”

“Hm?” Mateus paused and took a sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted to thank you, for helping out with Kefka.”

He was as stoic as ever, even hung over. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mateus looked down at him for a moment, and then winked before going back to his usual perch at the window.

“Yes, sir.”

Mateus nursed his coffee for several minutes, and then cleared his throat. “I have a task for you, Kuja. Something outside of the office.”

“Sir?”

“That Shinra brute you used to date. I want you to continue communications with him. We might be able to make some use of him.”

Kuja didn’t exactly like the idea of using Rude to make his boss happy, but he nodded at Mateus’s back all the same. “Yes, sir. As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mateus's bible quote is from Matthew 15. Perhaps a bit out of context, but who am I to begrudge Mateus his drunken bible quotes.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven   
  
Kuja would be lying if he had to say that working for Mateus Palamecia was an easy job. He was still uncomfortable around his new boss--Mateus was the infamous Emperor of Alexandria, after all. He was something of a taciturn jerk, though as long as his ire was not directed at Kuja the young man had to admit that there was something almost charming about the grumpy way that Mateus made his way through the world. He supposed he had to admire a man who could get away with being so unrepetantly surly to anyone who wasn’t his secretary or his bodyguard. Not that Mateus was entirely pleasant to him, no. It was best to say that Kuja was well aware that he was still working on a trial basis.   
  
He arrived at the main office--which Mateus had settled down into after the first week of moving between offices in town--on time or early every weekday. Kuja would check through Mr. Palamecia’s various calendars and appointment books, and then go to work reading through the newspaper. Mateus would usually come gracefully plodding into Kuja’s office by mid-morning. Sometimes he would have a cup of coffee in hand, sometimes a cigarette, sometimes both, sometimes nothing at all. Mateus would stand, squinting down at his secretary while Kuja reminded him of appointments and things like that. Kuja got the impression that his boss was trying to determine if he’d done anything unseemly since the day before. Then Mateus would go to the office window, turn his back on his secretary, and stare silently at the world outside. This part was always the same, though Kuja did not have the nerve to ask him what he looking at.  
  
In the evenings, Kuja would walk home by himself. Mateus had suggested having Ansem escort his secretary home, but Kuja had waved off the suggestion. And so it was, nearly three weeks after he had started working for the Palamecias, that Kuja was walking home by himself on a Thursday afternoon. He was lost in his thoughts, debating internally as to what dress he should wear that night to the Zanarkand, when a familiar set of footsteps caught up with him from behind.  
  
“You’re going to get yourself killed like that.”  
  
Kuja blinked back to his senses and looked to his right. The burly form of his ex-boyfriend was next to him, easily keeping pace with his longer legs. Kuja smiled at him for a moment, but let the look fade as he looked up at Rude. He was wearing a serious expression and a bandage on his right cheek.  
  
“I’m fine, really.”  
  
“Shinra has eyes and knives on every corner,” Rude said. “You’re far from fine.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve been told.” Kuja shrugged. “What do you want?”  
  
“Just checking on you.”  
  
“I’m just as fine as I was when you bugged me about it two weeks ago.” He gave a snort at Rude’s stubborn lack of reply. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of Reno?”  
  
Rude frowned. “There’s no taking care of him to be done. He’s still in the hospital. I’m not needed there. Or welcome there, for that matter.”  
  
“They just see you as one of Shinra’s goons. Because that’s what you are.”  
  
The older man grunted. “I’m more than that to Reno.”  
  
“Good luck explaining that to the doctors.” Kuja tilted his head. “How is he doing?”  
  
“He hasn’t woken up yet.”  
  
“Still?”  
  
Rude shook his head. “The doctors aren’t sure when he’ll wake up, or if he will. Or what he’ll be like when he wakes up.”  
  
Kuja said nothing. He knew that he was responsible, in some fashion or another, for Rude’s current lover being in a coma. He could not bring himself to feel entirely remorseful about it, though, and wondered if that made him a bad person. Was working for the mob having a bad effect on him?  
  
“You alright?”  
  
Kuja blinked and looked up at Rude. “Yeah. I just.. it’s sad, is all.”  
  
“You never liked him, what do you care?”  
  
Kuja shrugged. “It’s still sad.”  
  
“I suppose so. But, Red is resilient. He’ll probably be fine, once he wakes up. His head just has to get better. Whoever got a hold of him really beat the shit out of him.”  
  
Kuja had his suspicions, but didn’t voice them. “Well, they didn’t kill him. That’s good, right?”  
  
“I guess.” Rude sighed. Kuja gestured up at him.  
  
“What happened to you? Get into another fight?”  
  
“Just a little injury in the line of duty,” Rude said. A big hand moved to gingerly touch the bandage-covered spot on his cheek. “Just got a little roughed up dealing with some of Belias Palamecia’s men downtown.”  
  
“ _You_ got roughed up?”  
  
“He’s got some big guys working for him. That, and they got the jump on me.”  
  
“Oh. I see.”  
  
Rude frowned again. “What, you’re not going to say that you’re glad I’m okay?”  
  
“I don’t know. Should I?”  
  
He sighed heavily. “Kuja...”  
  
“No, just... don’t start, Rude. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get home.”  
  
“Wait, Kuja,” Rude grabbed at the younger man’s hand, but Kuja wrenched it away. “Be careful. If you ever need help, you know where I am.”  
  
Kuja looked at his hand and shook his head. “You should be careful yourself. The Palamecias have just as many eyes in the city as the Shinra do.”  
  
“Is that a threat?”  
  
“No, of course not. Just a warning.”  
  
“A warning, right.” Rude shook his head, slowing in his step and turning away. Kuja paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. He watched Rude’s retreat for a moment before continuing toward his own destination. He did not make it home before being interrupted again.  
  
“That man works for Shinra.” As ever, Ansem’s voice seemed to barely make it out of his throat. Kuja gave a little sigh.  
  
“You don’t have to stalk me.”  
  
“I am not stalking you, I am following you as per Mr. Palamecia’s instructions.”  
  
“Call it what you like. Are you going to follow me home every night?”  
  
“As long as it is deemed necessary. You are quite careless.”  
  
Kuja thought of Ansem’s opening statement. “Are you following me for my own benefit, or in order to protect Mr. Palamecia’s interests?”  
  
The silvery head of hair inclined slightly to the side. “You will find in time that those are one and the same, Mr. Tribal.”  
  
“Right, sure.” Kuja crossed his arms. “That guy was my ex-boyfriend, Rude. But, you already knew that.”  
  
“Yes. He is not trustworthy.”  
  
“He used to be.” Kuja could barely contain the dejected sigh that escaped from his chest. “But that changed. Seems to be the case with men who get too close to me.” He looked up at the dark man next to him. “Ansem, if you’re stalking me, who is watching out for Mr. Palamecia?”  
  
“He is at his office until I return,” Ansem said. “He has another man watching the door until then.”  
  
“Oh. I guess that’s alright. Why don’t you do something on the way back to the office? Maybe go by a diner and get a piece of apple pie or something?”  
  
“No.” Ansem shook his head. “I do not like fruit based pastries.”  
  
He smiled. “What do you like, then?”  
  
The bodyguard hesitated for a moment. “Chocolate.”  
  
Kuja chuckled. “Chocolate pie, then?”  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
“If you bring something for Mr. Palamecia as well, then it won’t look so selfish.”  
  
The other man’s silvery brows drew together. “You are clever, Mr. Tribal.”  
  
“Just don’t let that get out.” Kuja stopped and gestured at the building they were standing in front of. “Well, this is my stop. See you tomorrow, Ansem.”  
  
“Yes. Tomorrow.”  
  
  
The next morning was Friday morning, which put Mateus Palamecia in decent enough spirits. All the same, he sat in his office, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window. The curtains were open today, but the many buildings of Alexandria blocked the view of the gray August sky. He took a sip of his coffee, waiting until there came a soft knocking on his office door.  
  
“Come in, Mr. Tribal.”  
  
Kuja opened the door and stepped into the room. Mateus made a brief note of his secretary’s appearance--crisp in dark gray slacks and vest with coordinating white dress shirt and dark violet tie--and his nervous expression.  
  
“You called for me, sir?”  
  
“Yes, Kuja. Have a seat, please.”  
  
Kuja nodded and quickly took his place in the chair closest to Mateus’s desk. “Am I in trouble again?”  
  
Mateus smirked. “That depends, have you done anything since yesterday evening to merit you being in trouble?”  
  
“Not intentionally. I mean, I got a little tipsy at the Zanarkand, but that’s a Thursday night for you.”  
  
“Anything interesting happen at the club?”  
  
“No, sir. Just your average night, really. Why?”  
  
“No reason. Just making conversation.” Mateus took another sip of his coffee and leaned forward. “Last night Ansem reported to me that you’d been with that Grossier fellow.”  
  
“With Rude, yes. You were having Ansem stalk me, again.”  
  
Mateus shrugged. “I can’t deny that.”  
  
“He just intercepted me while I was walking home, that’s all.”  
  
“Any interesting information from him?”  
  
Kuja’s brows furrowed for a moment. “I guess I forgot that I was supposed to be trying to get information out of him, sir. My apologies. We didn’t really talk about anything interesting. Just his... partner. And Rude’s continued concern for my well being. He seems to think I’m going to be jumped while walking home.”  
  
“Yes, well. That is why I have Ansem marking your progress in the evening.”  
  
“I’m aware of that fact, sir.”  
  
Mateus cleared his throat. “So, what of Mr. Grossier’s partner?”  
  
“He’s still in a coma. They don’t know what’s going to happen to him.”  
  
“Mm.” He shrugged and picked up his coffee cup again. It was nearly empty. Kuja licked his lips.  
  
“Sir, if I could ask you a question? Off the record?”  
  
Mateus’s lips quirked in a smile. “You can always ask a question, Mr. Tribal. It is up to me whether or not I wish to answer it.”  
  
Kuja stared at him for a moment. “Why didn’t you just have him killed?”  
  
He considered his secretary’s question. “I don’t know exactly who you’re speaking of, Mr. Tribal. But, I would imagine that he was not the sort of character that deserved a quick, painful death.”  
  
His secretary frowned. “Alright. Thank you, sir.”   
  
“You’re free to go back to your office. I’ll be there in a little while to get the morning’s reports.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
  
The job wasn’t always so bad, though. By mid-September, Kuja could almost say he enjoyed going to his day job. Almost--it was still a job, after all, and one in a rather dangerous sector. He still had to deal with barely literate, barely intelligible men over the phone on a nearly daily basis. He still had to occasionally deal with Belias Palamecia’s goons--men that made Ansem seem a cuddly kitten in comparison. Kuja was finding he preferred the quiet sort of menacing danger to the loud mouthed sort of dangerous men that Mateus’s brother liked to employ. Besides, Ansem seemed to have written Kuja off as any sort of threat. At least, Kuja thought he had. Ansem still followed him home from work on most days, but Kuja had come to accept this as just part of his job. The dark man was subtle at what he did, and many evenings Kuja was not aware that he had been followed again until he turned and looked and saw Ansem slipping off into the shadows a block away.  
  
Mateus still scared Kuja now and then, though the younger man was nearly certain that the effect was not intentional. His boss would return from a meeting, or the courthouse, or just from lunch with his brother, and be seething like a brewing storm. Kuja had learned very quickly to steer clear of him until Mateus had enough time to smoke a cigarette and pace around his office. He would still be stoic and stern when he stomped into Kuja’s office, but after a few terse words he would go to the window and be quiet. It was that dangerous sort of quiet that Ansem embodied, focused out at the world below. Eventually, Mateus would give a resigned sigh and turn away from the window, his face its usual impassive blank mask. Then Kuja could speak and pass on any messages that had accrued during his employer’s absence. Though, Kuja had started to notice, as the weeks went by, that those brooding silences had shortened and been replaced with several minutes of grousing about whatever currently had him in a funk.  
  
Kuja was not entirely sure what he though of Mateus Palamecia, of the man he appeared to be and the work that he did. He did his best not to think about that sort of thing, as it was not really his business. He opted instead to view the surly blond packaging, and enjoy what it had to offer. It wasn’t really his fault. There were times when Kuja had nothing better to do than admire his boss’s posterior--Mateus’s habit of staring out the window lent itself to that sort of pastime--and wonder what the rest of him looked like underneath those well tailored, expensive suits. He usually only had a minute or two to steal such looks, as Mateus always seemed to know when Kuja was watching him. Kuja supposed that was just part of the paranoia that came with his position. Still, Kuja indulged himself in looking when he had the chance, especially on warmer days when Mateus wore no vest and jacket in the office, and instead used the suspenders that pulled the dark fabric of his slacks ever so wonderfully tight.   
  
No, Mateus Palamecia was probably not a good man, but Kuja was quite certain that there were worse men in Alexandria to have as his employer.  
  
  
On just another cool September night Kuja was working his usual hours at the Zanarkand, cheerfully shimmying about the dance floor. When he tired he went to his usual place at the end of the bar and sat. One of the bartenders, a bronzed man with nearly orange hair and a grating accent, made his way to where Kuja was sitting.  
  
“Hey there, Pretty Boy. Good night, ya?” The bartender set a glass of water on the counter. Kuja picked it up and took a sip.  
  
“Pretty good, yeah.” He looked over his shoulder at the dance floor, and then back to the bartender. “Wakka, have you seen Seymour?”  
  
“The Maestro? Last I heard he was going upstairs to talk to some of the new guys working at the juice bar. Said there was concern about how good of friends of the family they were, ya know?”  
  
“Oh. Nothing new about that.” Kuja scratched at his elbow.  
  
“You need him for something?  I could send Faolan to go find him, he’s not busy.” Wakka jerked his chin down the line of the bar, to where the other bartender was idly rearranging glasses.  
  
“No, that’s okay. I was just wondering where he was.” Kuja smiled. “I hadn’t seen him since we opened.”  
  
“He’s a busy man.” Wakka went down to a customer and refilled his glass before returning to where Kuja was still resting his feet.  
  
“Yeah. Hey, Wakka, you ever wonder we have a speakeasy upstairs, and another bar down here?”  
  
The bartender stared at him for a moment before giving a laugh. “Not really, no. This was a dance hall before Prohibition, ya? The Maestro’s old man used to run this place. Everything in the bar down here, we can hide from the cops if we have enough warning time.”  
  
“How often does that happen? I can’t recall it since I started dancing here.”  
  
“Mm, not for a long time. Not since Mista Seymour started getting more help from the owners.”  
  
“Oh, I see.” He meant the Palamecias were paying the police to keep their noses out of the Zanarkand’s business. Wakka laughed again.  
  
“Besides, our dancers gotta have a place to rest their feet before having some more!”   
  
Kuja made an agreeing noise, his attention distracted from the bartender as he noticed a familiar head of slick-backed dark blue hair enter the dance hall. Seymour was dressed crisply in shades of blue, a half full wine glass in his left hand. Kuja watched as Seymour scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the other bartender. The other man noticed the look and hurried to look busy, but then stopped and winked at Seymour. The blue haired man just looked at the black haired bartender with a smirk before turning and starting his usual slow circuit of the tables around the dance floor. Kuja took another gulp of water, something turning unpleasantly in his stomach.  
  
Seymour took his sweet time making his way around the dance floor. He stopped to make pleasantries with the regulars, and to welcome newer patrons to the Zanarkand. By the time he had looped around and reached the bar, Kuja’s glass of water was empty and his feet were no longer aching. So he went back to the dance floor, not saying anything as he passed by his boyfriend. He held his tongue. It pained him to do so, but he knew to fuss at Seymour for his wandering eyes would be hypocritical. After all, didn’t he himself like to gaze at the backside of one of Seymour’s closest friends? No, he had no right to say anything at all.  
  
It still bothered him. He was only human.  
  
As the evening drew to its close and the dancers and drinkers all left to head home, Kuja busied himself bussing tables and returning empty glasses and full ash trays to the bar. He was emptying an ash tray into the waste bin when he felt a familiar, possessive touch on his lower back.  
  
“You alright?” Seymour murmured into his right ear.  
  
“Hm? I’m fine. Busy night. But, that’s Friday for you.”  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Seymour said. Kuja forced a little laugh out, hoping it didn’t betray any bitterness he was feeling.  
  
“You’re imagining things, Seymour. You’ve been busy at the tables all night.”  
  
“I suppose so.” He gave his back a little squeeze. “I’m going upstairs to count tonight’s take. You still good to come home with me tonight?”  
  
Kuja half turned to look behind him and smiled. “Yes, of course.”  
  
  
By mid-October, autumn had settled in over the city of Alexandria. Rain came with it, drizzling and gray and making Kuja wish he lived someplace warmer. It wasn’t a complete loss, though. The cooler weather gave him an excuse to drink more hot chocolate and prompted his mother to increase her amount of baking. Kuja was a sucker for hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies. More and more Kuja found himself unable to motivate himself to leave the warmth and comfort of home to trek out into the rain to go dancing at the Zanarkand. Two weeks before Halloween, Kuja was only going to the Zanarkand on Friday and Saturday nights. The loss of that income was not too much a bother--he was earning more than enough working for the Palamecias to make up the difference.  
  
It was late in the morning on another gray day in the city, and Kuja was contemplating his plans for lunch. He could go home for lunch, or perhaps down to one of the automats or the deli or a diner, but both of these plans were hindered by the fact that he had been neglectful that morning and not brought an umbrella. Perhaps Mateus would loan him his umbrella if he offered to go pick up something for his boss as well? That was a possibility. If Mateus didn’t have a lunch meeting with someone, he usually preferred to stay in his office and send Kuja out to pick up his order from the deli. Kuja could not think of a single instance of his boss going back home to his own place to eat.  
  
There was a light rapping on the door to Kuja’s office, and then it creaked open. Mateus strolled in, carrying two glass bottles in one hand, and a large brown paper bag in the other. Kuja recognized the logo on the bag as being from the deli that Mateus preferred to get his lunch from.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had someone deliver lunch today.”  
  
Kuja blinked in surprise, but then smiled. “I hope you didn’t send Ansem out into the rain to go get it.”  
  
Mateus chuckled and set the bag on Kuja’s desk. “No, of course not. I can’t stand that angry wet cat look of his.” Mateus pulled a chair over and sat. “Do you mind if I join you?”  
  
“No, not at all.”  
  
Mateus pulled several packages out of the paper bag. “For you, chicken salad sandwich and lemon cookies. They were out of tomato soup, unfortunately.”   
  
“That’s alright, thank you.” Kuja retrieved a bottle opener from the top drawer of his desk. “You didn’t have to do this, I could have gone and picked it up for you.”  
  
“Let me be nice for once, eh? Besides, the fellow at the deli owed me a favor.”  
  
He half turned his face away to hide a smile. “I won’t let anyone know you were being nice to your secretary.”  
  
“Good, I appreciate that consideration.” Mateus unwrapped his own sandwich and fell quiet as he began to eat.   
  
Kuja shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the silence dragged on for several minutes. “Was there something you wanted to talk about while we ate? The Kinneas case, perhaps?”  
  
Mateus gave a little snort and shook his head. “No, I’d rather not talk about gruesome murders during lunch.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Kuja wiped at the corner of his mouth. “Where’s Ansem, anyway?”  
  
“Downstairs guarding the door while having his sandwich.” Mateus’s dark eyes flicked to look across the desk. “Why, Mr. Tribal, do you perhaps fancy my bodyguard?”  
  
Kuja coughed and covered his mouth with a hand. “Oh, no, sir, absolutely not. I outgrew my penchant for tall, dark, and murderous years ago.”  
  
“Good. I wouldn’t want Seymour to have cause for concern.”  
  
“No, no concern at all.” Kuja hurriedly picked up his sandwich and took another bite. He looked at the careful lunch spread while he chewed. After swallowing and washing it down with a mouthful of soda pop, he cleared his throat.  
  
“Mr. Palamecia, when was the last time you had a girlfriend?”  
  
Mateus blinked and looked up from his own food. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“You know, had a real lady friend. Someone you took on dates and brought home with you at the end of the night. That sort of thing.”  
  
“Oh.” Mateus’s jaw worked as he picked up his bottle of soda pop and took a sip. Kuja wasn’t sure that his boss was going to answer. He was surprised when Mateus shrugged and spoke. “It suppose it’s been five years or more now. Haven’t really had much of any since I finished school. Especially haven’t since my father died and I gained this position.” He barked a faint laugh, the bitterness in it not lost on the other man. “I mean, it’s not safe now. As the underboss for my Family, it’s hard to really trust anyone. You know?”  
  
“I suppose so. But, don’t you get lonely?”  
  
For a brief moment, Kuja thought that Mateus Palamecia almost looked ashamed. “I don’t have the time to be lonely.” He got to his feet, bottle still in hand, and went to the window.  
  
“Of course, sir. You’re a busy man.”  
  
“Very busy,” Mateus murmured at the glass. Kuja picked up one of the lemon cookies and stuffed it into his mouth. He watched his employer’s backside, watched the way the long blond hair draped down his back and fanned out just so along the subtle curve of his bottom. No, Kuja thought, Mateus’s position did not make him too busy for romance, it made him too isolated. He could not fathom how Mateus could stand having to spend his lunch hour with his secretary instead of with someone he cared about.   
  
Kuja cleared his throat. “Sir? Were you going to be finishing your lunch? You have a meeting at one in the afternoon.”  
  
“Hm? Oh, yes.” When Mateus turned and made his way back to his chair, his face was its usual banal mask. He sat and picked up the remains of his sandwich. “Thank you for reminding me.”  
  
Kuja smiled across the desk, though he was quite certain that the look was not reaching his eyes. “Just doing my job, sir.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: Little bit of smut somewhere in there. Holiday smut! That's the best kind.

Chapter Eight  
October 31st, 1923

Ever since Kuja had started being Seymour’s boyfriend after New Year’s--he couldn’t really call it dating if they never went on a date--he had often lamented the fact that the only time he spent with Seymour was either at work or in Seymour’s bed. He supposed this was more time together than some couples had, but would it really kill Seymour to take him out to lunch some time? He dared not broach the subject with Seymour, though. That would just lead to brooding and jealous fussing on Seymour’s part. Perhaps that was another reason Kuja stopped going to the Zanarkand as much. All the same, he was still at the club on a Wednesday evening, helping put up decorations for the Zanarkand’s annual Halloween party. He tacked up black paper silhouettes on the walls--witches on broomsticks, cats, and bats--that had been cut out by one of the bartender’s wives. Seymour was busy trying to find the best location for several paper mache pumpkins with horrible faces painted onto them.

“Maybe the big one on the bar there... Oh, I don’t know.” Seymour sighed and watched Kuja at work. “Were you going to just wear a mask, or a costume of some sort?”

“I have a costume, don’t worry,” Kuja said as he tacked the last of the wall decorations up. “You?”

“Just a mask, probably.”

“Mr. Palamecia wanted to know if you had a spare mask he could wear tonight.” Kuja dusted off his hands and went over to the bar. Seymour tilted his head to the side.

“Matty said he was coming?”

“Well, yeah. I was telling him about all your preparations for the party this morning over the paper, and he said he’d like to attend.”

“That’s odd. Mat’s never been much of one for parties, even in college.” He squinted at a pumpkin and turned it slightly. “He was more the get obnoxiously drunk sort.”

Kuja chuckled. “I’m sure you can get him plenty buzzed tonight.”

“I suppose so.” Seymour drummed his fingers on the pumpkin. “I’ll have to see what I have that might suit him.”

 

The sun went down, and the Zanarkand was flooded with dancers and party-goers, most in various stages of wearing costumes. Some, mostly men, were just wearing simple masks, but many of the female occupants of the club had spruced up their usual dresses with extra holiday flair. There were witches and clowns and a few other things that Kuja couldn’t quite figure out. He himself was wearing one of his usual black flapper dresses, but he had affixed a black cat tail over his tailbone. He was also wearing a black cap with cat ears sewn onto it and his usual half pound of make-up.

Seymour, wearing just a dark blue domino mask, leaned toward Kuja as he approached. “I can’t tell if I want to have sex with you or pet you.”

Kuja winked up at him. “You can do both, if you like.”

He blushed and looked away. “Maybe after the party, I will.” He glanced around. “Have you seen Mat, yet?”

“No, not yet. Did you find him a mask?”

“I did. Sent it over for the hulking bodyguard of his to deliver to him.”

“Ansem isn’t that bad.”

“He’s far worse than bad, Kuja,” Seymour said. “You should know that by now.”

“I do. But, he’s nice to me.”

Seymour snorted. “Nice? I’ve never seen him be nice to anyone. Ever.”

“Well...” Kuja shrugged. “He’s stopped actively menacing me when I come in to work. Though, maybe Mr. Palamecia told him to do that. I don’t know.” He smiled. Seymour sighed and tweaked one of Kuja’s cat ears.

“Just be careful around him.”

“I am.” He gave Seymour a peck on the cheek. “The dance floor is calling me, hon. I’ll see you around!”

 

Two hours later, and Kuja was reaching his usual point in the night where his feet were starting to hurt. Rather than go sit at the bar or head upstairs to the speakeasy, he scanned the tables that lined the perimeter of the dance floor until he found a familiar figure sitting alone. He sashayed over to the table, fake tail swishing a bit behind him.

“Hey there, handsome. Mind if I have a seat?” 

Mateus looked up at his teasing question. He was wearing a dark violet colored mask with a pair of little gold snakes coiling around the edges. He held up his half empty glass in a saluting gesture.

“Nice ears.”

Kuja smiled and sat across the table. “Having fun?”

“Fun? I don’t know about that. Drinks though.” He sipped from his glass. Its contents were orange. “Can’t complain about drinks.” He looked at Kuja. “You done dancing already?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. But my feet are already hurting, so it’s time for a break.” Kuja wiggled a foot. “Why don’t you dance, sir?”

“I’m not the dancing sort,” Mateus said. “I’m the drinking sort.”

“Do I need to make sure there’s extra coffee ready for you in the morning?”

“Don’t press your luck, young lady.”

Kuja burst out laughing. The noise drew a few curious looks from nearby tables. “It’s a good thing you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow morning, then.”

Mateus grunted and drained the last of his glass. He set it down next to another empty glass. “Probably, yes.”

“Kuja, you aren’t giving Mat a hard time, are you?”

They looked up at Seymour, who was standing with his hands on his hips and pretending to glower at Kuja. The younger man laughed and waved a hand.

“No, I’m just keeping him company, ain’t that right, sir?”

“That’s right.” Mateus gestured at the glasses. “I could use another drink, though.”

“Me too!” Kuja piped in.

“You’re working,” Seymour said.

“I’m thirsty!”

Seymour sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll be right back.”

Kuja looked across the table when Seymour had left. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“No, it’s alright,” Mateus said. “I’ll manage.”

Kuja wiggled his foot again and grinned. “Are you buying me a drink, sir?”

“Now, Kuja, I would have thought your weekly salary was sufficient for you to buy your own drinks.”

“Oh, it is, sir. But, it’s a party.”

Mateus grimaced slightly behind his mask, a finger trailing around the edge of an empty glass. “It’s alright if you call me Mateus when we’re not at the office, you know.”

“Well, I am technically working right now, so I should at least be respectful to you,” Kuja said.

“You can be respectful and still call me Mateus.”

Kuja laughed. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked up at Seymour as the other man returned holding two glasses.

“Just one drink, then back on your feet.”

He giggled as he took the glass. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me on my back, instead?”

Seymour blushed. “Save that for later.”

Kuja gulped down the orange colored contents of the glass. “Oh, man, that was pretty rough!” He got to his feet, smoothing the front of his dress. “Alright, back on the job.” He returned to the dance floor, making a point of giving his hips an exaggerated waggle at Seymour as he did so. “See you later, boys!”

 

Seymour sat in the chair that Kuja had vacated. He watched Kuja wiggle his way back out onto the dance floor, immediately being swept up in the music that was playing. He could see the little black cat tail swing back and forth as Kuja danced. The younger man was standing with his back to Seymour. Just watching him move at this distance was enough to make his pants tight. That was how he and Kuja had first really gotten involved, after all. Those oh-so-expressive curves moving in such a sinful way.

Mateus sipped his drink. “Does he always position himself on the dance floor so he’s shaking his bottom at you?”

Seymour snorted, a touch embarrassed that his friend had caught him ogling Kuja. “If he does, I haven’t noticed it before.” He got to his feet.

“Leaving already?”

“Just for a bit. I have a certain dancer that requires some disciplinary actions.”

Mateus smiled pleasantly. “Oh. Have fun. Bring me another drink when you’re done.”

 

Not long later, Kuja and Seymour were upstairs in Seymour’s office. Kuja was half leaning over the desk, his bottom bouncing in Seymour’s lap. The padded leather chair creaked with his motions.

“Oh, fuck, Seymour!” Kuja groaned.

“You were being very awful,” Seymour said, mouthing at the side of Kuja’s neck. “I’d almost think you were flirting with Mat to make me jealous.”

“Were you jealous?”

“A bit.”

“Then, it was working.”

Seymour gave his thigh a slap. “Naughty thing.” Kuja groaned again, his breath escaping in little pants.

“Worth it, though!”

He leaned back in his chair, using the leverage to thrust his hips up in time with the beat of the music audible through the floor. Kuja gave a little squeal at this, rocking his hips down in time with the music.

“Care--careful, Sey, someone might hear!” Kuja leaned forward, fingers clutching at the edge of the desk. Seymour looked down, watching his cock slide into Kuja’s tight hole.

“Well, maybe I want them to hear for once.” He pulled Kuja’s hips down and held him in place as he ground against him. Kuja groaned.

“Oh, maybe I should make you jealous more often!”

Seymour continued thrusting up into his partner. He kept his gaze focused on Kuja’s ass and the way it moved as he gleefully bounced in Seymour’s lap.

“Turn around, honey, I want to kiss you.”

Kuja stopped his movements, shifting his weight around gracefully. He lifted a leg up into the air as he turned in Seymour’s lap, never separating himself from Seymour’s cock. He braced his legs on each side of Seymour’s torso and leaned forward for a kiss.

“Mm, aren’t you just a pretty kitty.”

Kuja giggled softly. “That I am.”

He flipped up the front of Kuja’s skirt to reveal his cock, and swiftly took it in hand. “Can’t let you go back downstairs with this peeking out of your dress.”

“Mm, then you’d better give me a hand.” Kuja leaned back against the desk, spreading his arms against the edges for balance as he resumed rolling his hips in Seymour’s lap. “Oh, Seymour, you feel so good in me..” He groaned as Seymour’s big hand stroked at his cock in time with his own thrusts.

“And you always feel good on me,” Seymour said with a grin. 

 

Mateus did his best not to notice the slight irregularity in Kuja’s gait when the younger man returned to the dance floor. Seymour reappeared a few minutes later, drinks in hand, and made his way to Mateus’s table. Seymour looked smug and quite pleased with himself, Mateus thought.

“Did the discipline go well?”

Seymour smirked and set the glasses down. “It went very well.” He chuckled. “Very well, indeed.”

They sat and drank in relative silence for a moment. Mateus watched as Seymour’s gaze drifted back out to the dance floor, and it only took a brief look for Mateus to know that he was again looking at Kuja’s shimmying backside. He cleared his throat, and Seymour jerked in his seat.

“Oh. Um. Good party tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

“Looks that way.”

Seymour took a gulp of his drink and grimaced. “Mm. So, how’s business?”

“Can’t complain. There’s a few properties on Dali Avenue that Belias wants me to check out. Might do that tomorrow.” He sipped his drink. “Other than that it’s just avoid getting shot.”

“I suppose it could be worse.”

Mateus made an agreeing noise. He looked back out to the dance floor, scanning the occupants in their festive finery. He realized, after a few scans of the room, than his eyes kept gravitating back to the form of his secretary. Mateus knew full and well that Kuja was a man, but damn if he didn’t cut a convincing female figure from the back. It was enough to be distracting. He couldn’t entirely begrudge Seymour’s lusting after the younger man.

Mateus cleared his throat and set his empty glass down. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

His friend made a disappointed noise. “What, already? It’s barely midnight.”

“Yes, I know.” Mateus chuckled. “But, I do have to work in the morning, and I really don’t need to go in with a hangover again.” He touched his mask. “If you’d like, I can send Ansem in here to loiter in my stead.”

“Wh-no, you’d better not.” Seymour turned his face away for a moment. “He’d scare my patrons sober.”

“Fair enough.” Mateus got to his feet slowly, and then offered a hand to Seymour. “See you later, my friend.”

Seymour gave his hand a shake. “Mind yourself driving home, Matty.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

 

On Thursday, Mateus stayed in his own office most of the morning. He did not come over to Kuja’s office until just a bit before lunch time. By then Kuja had finished with the newspaper, filed away his notes, and started reading a book he had brought along in case there was a lull in things to do that day.

“Busy as usual, I see?”

Kuja jerked a bit in his seat, hurriedly putting his book down and looking at the door. Mateus was standing there, looking decidedly not hung over. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning on the door frame. 

“Oh, sir! Good morning, sir. I’m just sitting, waiting for the phone to ring.”

“Finished with the paper?”

“Yes, sir. Nothing really interesting this morning, which is a surprise, considering last night was Halloween. People usually get up to mischief on Halloween.” He smiled.

“So I’d heard.”

“And the rest was just the usual deliveries and the like. And you don’t have any meetings for today, so... I’m just waiting for the phone to ring.”

“I see. How’s the book?”

“Alright, I guess. It’s kind of a world history thing. My little brother gave it to me.”

“The cop?”

“Yeah. He likes to read when it’s a slow day. Says it helps him impress the ladies.”

Mateus chuckled. “I take it he’s always after a new paramour?”

“Something like that.” Kuja fidgeted in his seat. “Did you need something, sir?”

“No, I was just letting you know I was heading out for lunch.” Mateus moved into the room, stopping at Kuja’s desk to tap a few ashes into the red glass ashtray that perched at its front corner. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me for lunch.”

Kuja blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“There’s some properties on Dali Avenue that I wanted to scope out before speaking with my realtors,” Mateus said. “There’s a few places to eat in that area, so I figured I would go there for lunch today. Would you like to come with me?”

The younger man hurriedly marked the page in his book. “Oh, sure! Are you paying?”

Mateus rolled his eyes. “Yes, you penny-pinching little monkey. Put your jacket on and we’ll go.”

 

They walked across town. It was a pleasantly brisk fall afternoon, so Kuja didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Mateus simply didn’t drive or have someone drive him instead. Mateus had shrugged and professed a dislike for daytime traffic. Kuja occasionally looked over his shoulder, spotting Ansem a block or more behind them, but never any closer.

“Does he always follow you around like that?”

“Most of the time. That’s what he’s paid to do. Very well, in fact, considering he just spends most of his time standing around looking for things to menace.”

“Like a cat.”

“Yes, a bit like a cat.” Mateus chuckled. He stopped for a moment to look in a store window before continuing on.

“What does he do with his money, if he’s usually busy following you around?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. It’s not my business.” Mateus looked in another window. “Those are nice shoes, don’t you think?”

“A little tacky, sir. Give me a good pair of oxfords any day.”

“I wasn’t asking for you, Kuja.”

“Oh, right. Well, if you’re looking to stab someone with your shoe, those are pointy enough.”

“Very funny.”

They continued to the corner of Dali Avenue and Castle Street. Here there was a pharmacy and a soda fountain. They went inside and sat at the counter. They ate sandwiches in companionable silence, listening to the radio and the chatter of the other patrons.

“So, there’s no eggs and no cream in that?” Mateus gestured at Kuja’s chocolate egg cream. The younger man smiled and shook his head.

“No, just milk and soda water and syrup, I think. That’s what Yazoo told me, at least.”

“Yazoo?”

“One of my younger step-brothers. He works in a place like this over on the other side of the college.”

“Ah, I see.” Mateus sipped his root beer and watched as Kuja devoured a piece of pumpkin pie. “Do you always eat like it’s your last meal, or is it just because I’m paying?”

Kuja paused, fork halfway to his mouth. A blush pinked his cheeks. “I overslept this morning and missed breakfast.”

“And here you were chastising me for drinking too much. How late did the party go?”

He laughed. “I don’t remember.”

“Well, you made it to work on time, I suppose that’s what counts.”

“Yeah.” Kuja stirred at his drink with a straw. After a moment he spoke again, softly. “You know, Seymour’s never gone out in public with me on a date.”

Mateus glanced at the other man. “This isn’t a date, Kuja.”

“I know.” There was something undeniably sad and wistful in Kuja’s tone, and it made Mateus want to go and have a talk with Seymour.

“This is for business,” he said.

“It’s always for business,” Kuja echoed.

Mateus thought for a minute. Seymour and Kuja’s relationship problems were not any of his concern, even though Seymour was a close friend and Kuja was a remarkably good employee. Still, no business of his.

“I could... talk to him?”

“What?” Kuja looked at him, cheeks turning pink again. “Oh, no, no. That’s okay. It’s just how he is.”

“If you say so.” He picked up his sandwich. “I just hadn’t realized Seymour was such a jerk.”

“He’s not a jerk,” Kuja said. “He’s just uncomfortable with how he is. That’s all. I understand. It’s not easy, and he’s got an image to maintain.”

“It’s still not an excuse for neglecting your boyfriend.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I wouldn’t treat my girlfriend like that.”

“Just forget about it, forget I said anything. I wasn’t trying to start something.” 

He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Kuja.”

“It’s okay.”

Mateus got the feeling that it definitely wasn’t okay, but he again had to tell himself that it was none of his business. As long as Kuja’s romantic trials had no effect on his work performance, then it was of no interest to him. And yet...

“He ever take you to the cinema?”

Kuja hesitated, but shook his head. “Nope.”

“Really? Not even that? Hell, it’s dark in there, who’s going to see you?”

“Mr. Palamecia, sir, please.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “I’d take you to the movies, at least.”

Kuja’s cheeks were red. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full.”

“You’re my secretary, not my mother.” He took a sip of his root beer. Kuja busied himself with his egg cream. “So, you have two step brothers?”

“Four, and my younger brother,” Kuja said.

“Gracious. My condolences to your mother.”

The younger man snorted a laugh. “Oh, don’t pity her. She’s the queen of the house. Back a few years ago, she would say ‘why do I need to vote? I’ve got seven votes right here!’.”

Mateus smiled. “Sounds like a good woman.”

“She’s the best,” Kuja said with a little nod. “I mean, I probably don’t listen to her as much as I should these days, but... she’s raised us all well, I think.”

“My mother could stand to learn from her,” Mateus said. “Ever since my father died, Belias has walked all over her.”

“When was that?”

“When did my father die?” Mateus looked into his root beer. “Let’s see. It’s been about three and a half years, now. After he died, there was a lot of fighting in the family to take his position. My brother won out and appointed me his right hand man.” He smiled faintly. “As you know, I’m the legal face of the family.”

Kuja nodded. “It’s been a decade since my father died. He got sick and just... never got better. I still miss him sometimes. I mean, my step-father’s alright, but it’s not the same. You know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Mateus said. He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. “I’m not sure I’d ever want to get married. It seems like a hassle.”

“Well, if you find a woman you really like, then you’ll probably change your mind.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’m thirty-one, though. Haven’t met anyone yet that’s held my interest for more than a few months.”

“I am, as my mother says, too young and flippant to be thinking about getting married yet.” Kuja snorted. “I’ll be twenty-three next month. Though, I doubt I’ll be getting hitched any time soon. Not really my cup of tea, if you know what I mean.”

Mateus did.

“What about you and Seymour?”

Kuja sighed. “I’m still waiting.”

“Waiting?” Mateus was already pretty sure Seymour and Kuja had a relationship going on.

“Yeah. Waiting for him to be comfortable with it. With us.” He slurped at the bottom of his glass. “When you two have drinks, does he talk about me or anything?”

“Well...” When he thought about it, he couldn’t quite recall Seymour talking very much about his boyfriend. “We don’t really get together that often.”

“Mm.” Kuja sighed and turned on the stool to look out the windows. “So, what do you think of the location?”

“Hmm?”

“We were out here so you could look at some properties, right? Check out the area?”

“Oh, yes.” He’d nearly forgotten. “It seems good. Profitable. I’ll have to consult Ansem on his opinion.”

Kuja set his napkin down and looked over the counter. “You should get a piece of pie for him.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “To be nice? You paid for my lunch.”

Mateus made a face. “I don’t know what he likes. Other than seafood.”

“You should ask.” Kuja swung his feet. “He likes chocolate.”

“How do you know?”

He smiled. “I asked.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine  
Late November, 1923

“So, what did you do for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, you know. Had dinner with my mother and the cats.”

Mateus sipped his warm brandy. “You didn’t visit with any other relatives?”

“No. Mother didn’t feel like traveling this year. I can’t say I really minded.” Seymour tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray. “You?”

“Had to put up with the whole damned family,” Mateus said. “I love them, but it was exhausting.” He looked into his glass. “Everyone wanted to have a few minutes with me, wanted to have a few words with me, could I put in a word with Belias on their behalf?”

“So it was more a business meeting than a family get-together.”

“You could say that.” Mateus brought the glass to his lips again. “Did you see Mr. Tribal at all?”

“Kuja? No. He and his family went to Pennsylvania to visit family.”

“That’s right. He asked if it would be alright if he didn’t come back to work until Tuesday.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What will you do on Monday?”

Mateus smirked. “Not work.”

“Must be nice.” Seymour stubbed out his cigarette and pulled another out of its case. “The club will be quiet tonight without him here.”

“You’ll manage. You always did before.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Seymour lit the new cigarette. Mateus watched him for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

“Could I ask you a question, old friend?”

“Of course. Ask away.”

Mateus swirled the dwindling contents of his glass. “Well... Mr. Tribal’s birthday is coming up in a few days. I always have liked to get a birthday present for my secretaries. You know, as a show of appreciation for their hard work and all that.”

Seymour blinked. “Is it? I hadn’t realized.”

Mateus grimaced. “Seymour, you do know when your boyfriend’s birthday is, don’t you?”

“What? Of course I do.” The blue haired man made a show of taking a drag off his smoke. “It’s in December. Bad form to have a birthday in December. Too close to Christmas.”

“You can’t fault him for that.”

Seymour shrugged. “What’s the question?”

“Well, you’ve known him longer than I have. What sort of thing would be a good present to get him for his birthday?”

There was another show of smoking, and the tapping of the cigarette in the ash tray. “Oh, I don’t know. Kuja and I haven’t had much cause yet to give each other presents.” He tilted his head to the side. “He’s a man. I don’t have to worry about constantly peppering him with little trinkets of my affection like I would with some woman.”

“What are you going to get him for Christmas?”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Seymour said. He shrugged again. “I’ll figure something out, there’s three weeks until then.”

“You do realize that he’ll be upset with you if you don’t get him anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” Seymour waggled the cigarette in his fingers. “Leave it to me.”

“What about a book?”

Seymour gave him a blank look. “What about one?”

“As a present. Ku-Mr. Tribal likes to read.”

“Does he? I never noticed.” Seymour smirked. “He never has time for reading around me.”

“He reads a lot during down time at work,” Mateus said. “Pretty quickly, too. He gets through the paper a lot faster than any of my other secretaries did.”

“Then get him a book,” Seymour said.

“Maybe I will.”

 

Mateus wandered into Kuja’s office mid-morning on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. Kuja looked up from the newspaper. He’d been working on the word puzzle. Kuja smiled and set down his pencil.

“Did you have a good holiday, sir?”

“Once the headache wore off, yes.” Mateus hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets as he took his usual path to the window. “How was Pennsylvania?”

“Cold,” Kuja said. “Colder than here, at least. It was starting to snow a bit when we left on Sunday morning.”

“And the family?”

“Good. We were visiting my step-father’s folks, so it was alright. They have a farm. There were chickens.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a farm,” Mateus said. He leaned against the window sill, facing the room. Kuja chuckled.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, it’s horribly messy and the heating was almost non-existent.”

Mateus wrinkled his nose. “I’ll stay in the city with the family, then.”

“Your loss.” Kuja retrieved his calendar and opened it. “You have a lunch meeting with your brother and the owner of the Plaza Dry Cleaners on 9th street. I went ahead and made reservations for you at the Diburgio at 11:30, as you mentioned last week.”

“Thank you.” 

“Aside from the incident last night at the Gargan docks and Rufus Shinra promptly blaming it on your brother’s goons, there wasn’t really anything in the paper.” He looked at his notes. “Oh, and pears are on sale at the 6th street market this week.”

“Good to know.”

Kuja closed the calendar and put it away. He looked back at the newspaper and his half finished crossword puzzle. After a few minutes, Kuja realized that Mateus had not turned around to stare out the window, as was his habit. He was still leaning on the window sill, eyes slightly unfocused, head angled in his direction.

“Was there something else, sir? No one’s called so far this morning.”

Mateus blinked and refocused on Kuja. “Your birthday is this weekend, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. On Sunday.”

“How old will you be?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three. My.” Mateus smiled faintly and shook his head. “I remember when I that age. I was in law school then.”

Kuja chuckled. “You make it sound like it was a long time ago.”

“Well, long enough. It was before we got involved in the war.”

“Did you fight?”

“Mm, no. I filled out my draft card--I’m no slacker. But I didn’t get drafted. Maybe because I was finishing up school and all of that.” He shrugged. “You were a bit too young for that, weren’t you?”

“Just a bit. I turned eighteen a month after the war ended. My step-brother’s a veteran, though. Sephiroth. They sent him home after the war with a limp and a   
wounded spirit.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kuja sighed. “It’s just how it is, now, right? Can’t change the past.”

“That’s right.” Mateus cleared his throat. “Anyhow, I, um... I was wondering if you might like to go see a movie or something for your birthday. My treat.” His hands stirred in front of him, and his fingertips twisted the signet ring on his right hand.

Kuja blinked. “You mean like a date?”

“No, no. Of course not. Just, you know. Free dinner and a movie. For your birthday. Not a date.”

“Well, you know I’m a sucker for a free meal, sir.” Kuja smiled ruefully. “And, it’s not like Seymour’s going to take me out on a date for my birthday.”

“Good. You pick the restaurant and the movie, and we’ll go.”

 

On Thursday evening, Sephiroth sat in bed, as usual. He was watching his step-brother primp in front of mirror. He had been at it for nearly half an hour, rustling around in the closet to pick out clothes, then brushing his hair until it glistened in the lamp light. Now he was fussing with his tie. The whole thing left Sephiroth puzzled.

“What are you getting dressed for? It’s too early for the club.”

“I’m not going to the club,” Kuja murmured.

“What then? Are you going on a date with Seymour?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly.” Kuja sat on the end of his bed and laced on a pair of black cap-toed Oxford shoes.

“Then... what?”

“My boss is taking me out to dinner and a movie, as a treat for my birthday.”

Sephiroth squinted at him. “That sounds a lot like a date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sephiroth, shut your yap. It’s not a date, because he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my boss. It’s just a gift.”

“Whatever you want to call it.”

Kuja stood and went back to the mirror, inspecting himself yet again. “What, are you jealous?”

Sephiroth frowned. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t be. I’m a fag with a self hating boyfriend who probably won’t even remember when my birthday is. Even though I reminded him last month.”

“Sorry.”

He looked back at Sephiroth and smiled. “Don’t be.”

“I meant more, that I’m jealous that you can just... go outside. Without feeling like the world is going to crush you.”

“Oh, Sephiroth.” Kuja went over to the bed and patted his hair. “Someday it’ll be better.”

“You think so?”

Kuja smiled. “Yeah, I do. I actually have hope for your ability to change.”

 

Mateus and Kuja ate dinner at a little Italian place that Zidane had recommended to him. It was warm and cozy, compared to the chill outside, and not terribly crowded. They drank soda pop and ate pizza--something Kuja had never had before, but found he enjoyed--and had a bit of cheesecake for dessert. By then it was dark out, and Mateus drove them to the Cyclone theater for a showing of ‘Our Hospitality’, a comedy film that had been out for a few weeks that Kuja had decided he wanted to see. The theater was only half full. Mateus had watched Kuja shuffle around the rows of seats until he found the spot he liked best. He couldn’t tell the difference, but he was in no rush, so he let Kuja do what he wanted.

The movie was entertaining enough, and while Kuja laughed at all the right times, he never once attempted to engage Mateus in conversation. Mateus didn’t entirely mind, since most women he had taken to the movies in the past few years were incessant chatterboxes at the theater. After awhile, however, Mateus started to wonder if perhaps his secretary had forgotten he was there, or was just pretending he was out to the movie by himself. Near the end of the movie, though, when the hero had just barely managed to prevent his lady-love from falling over a waterfall, Kuja had grabbed the back of his hand and looked at him, gasping out an ‘oh, wow!’. Mateus had smiled at Kuja, and the younger man had quickly let his hand go and returned his focus to the screen.

Mateus did his level best to be inconspicuous when they left the theater. Outside, it had grown colder in the hour and a half or so that he and Kuja had been in the theater. Kuja pulled his coat closer around him and stomped his feet as they stood outside the doors to the Cyclone. Glancing around, Mateus spotted Ansem standing at one of the windows of 112 Theater Street, just across the way. Mateus gave him a wave, and Ansem disappeared from the window. He pulled his cigarette case from his pocket. Kuja shook his head when Mateus offered him a smoke. The younger man looked up at him and smiled.

“I had a good time tonight, Mateus,” Kuja said. “Thank you for the birthday present.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kuja tiled his head back, face aimed at the overcast sky. “Maybe you can put in a good word with Seymour, hmm? Tell him I might like something like this from him for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry that it was me here tonight, and not him.”

“Are you really?”

Mateus looked at the glowing end of his cigarette. “I’m sorry for you, on your behalf.”

“I see.” Kuja turned in a slow circle, his hands idly rubbing at his arms.

“Did you want a ride home?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. It’s not a terribly long walk from here.” Kuja smiled. “Thank you, though. Did you enjoy the movie?”

“I did. Buster Keaton’s work is often quite enjoyable.”

“I didn’t take you as the comedy sort,” Kuja said.

“Well, they can be a... nice touch of relief from the real world.” Mateus flicked ashes from his cigarette and watched them float away on the evening breeze. “The real world is a bit too much at times, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know if I’ve thought of it that way.” Kuja tucked a stray bit of violet hair behind his ear. “You’re sitting near the top of the world, Mateus. What do you need to escape?”

“We all need a little escape, sometimes.”

Mateus closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the evening traffic on the street and the chatter of people leaving the Cyclone theater. After a moment, he heard a soft, pleased exclamation from Kuja.

“Oh, look, I think it’s snowing.”

Mateus opened his eyes and looked. There were indeed small, fluffy white flakes beginning to fall from the clouds that were looming overhead. To him, they seemed to sparkle a bit as they passed through the glow of the street lights. Kuja smiled and held out a hand. He made a happy noise as a few flakes collected in his palm and melted.

“You like the snow?”

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Kuja tilted his face up again, his gaze transfixed on the steadily increasing fall of flakes. Mateus watched him.

“It is, yes.”

“Seymour hates it,” Kuja said. “He’s like a plant. Doesn’t like the cold.”

“Yes, that’s right. He was always fussing college about how cold our room was.”

“Mm.” Kuja sighed. It was a wistful, almost painful thing to hear. “Oh well. The summer was nice, at least.”

Mateus was not quite sure what to say. Kuja looked at him, and his face half twisted into a sad smile. He rose up on his toes and pressed a kiss to Mateus’s cheek.

“I’m going to head home to change. I still have to stop by the Zanarkand for a bit and earn my keep.”

“Are you sure you didn’t want a ride?”

Kuja nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Mateus. I really enjoyed it.” He wagged a finger at the older man. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my boss. I mean it.”

“You’re very welcome, Kuja.”

He fluffed the collar of his coat a bit before heading off into the snow. “See you tomorrow, sir.” 

Mateus watched his secretary disappear off into the snowy gloom. He did not move until Kuja was beyond his sight. He dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and scuffed it out with his heel, and then went off to his car, alone.

 

That night, after two glasses of brandy and a cigarette, Mateus lay in his bed. He stared at the ceiling. His room was quite dark due to the lack of moonlight, and the fact that the closest street light outside his windows was nearly a block away. He watched the slight shifting of the shadows, his head still buzzing a bit from the brandy. His cheek felt hot, and he was quite certain that if he were to turn on a light and look at himself in the mirror, he would find a cupid’s bow-shaped lipstick mark imprinted there. Kuja had not been wearing any lipstick, but the feeling was all the same. Mateus was glad that the cold was there to excuse any redness that might have appeared on his cheeks after that simple, innocent action.

It had reminded him of the first girl he had dated, long ago when he was still in school. She had been a shy little thing who barely came up to his shoulder, and would rise up on her dainty toes to kiss him on the cheek whenever they met for a date. It had also, strangely, reminded Mateus of his own father. Velius Palamecia had been a man of business, often with little time for family. Mateus becoming a lawyer had in part been in the better interests of the family, not just his own wishes. Every choice his father made came down to the business. And yet, Mateus could still plainly remember how sweet he had been with his mother. He would come home from a long, unpleasant day of work, snapping and grousing at his children. But he would kiss his wife on the cheek with the utmost gentleness and love. His parents had always been different people when they were together.

Mateus thought of all of this as he lay in the dark.

Why wouldn’t that one simple action leave his mind? Did it bother him? Did it not bother him? He wasn’t sure, and it caused a spasm of self doubt in his mind so powerful that he sat up in his bed. Mateus got out of bed and made his way around the silhouettes of his bedroom furniture until he reached his bulky set of dresser drawers. The half full bottle of brandy and small empty glass he had used for his night cap still rested on the top of the dresser. Mateus poured himself another glass and downed it. His mind buzzed in a rather unpleasant fashion. Mateus was no homosexual like Seymour. He had always preferred the company of women when it came to sex. And yet, he could not stop thinking about the little bloom of warmth he had felt inside at the little peck on his cheek. Neither he could quite get out of his head the image of Kuja’s curving, twitchy hips at the Halloween party. He wasn’t sure what imp had planted it there, but now he was stuck with it. 

He thought, and supposed the somewhat peckish fascination with his latest secretary came from the simple fact that he hadn’t had an intimate encounter with someone since mid-June. So, it was no real surprise that his hormones would make his mind fixate on the image of the passably feminine backside of his male secretary as a supplement. The solution to that was simple enough, really. He just needed to find a nice young lady to be intimate with, and that would all resolve itself. He was never really very keen on using a prostitute for his pleasures, even though he knew they were just doing their job. No, he preferred a more free range partner. 

Tomorrow would be Friday night, Mateus thought as he made his way back to his bed. It should be fairly simple for him to go to a dance club and pick up some tipsy, suggestible woman. The Zanarkand would be the easiest place, since Seymour was always telling him how packed it was on Friday and Saturday nights. Yes, that would do nicely. He flopped back on the bed, spreading his arms at his sides as though he were making an angel in the snow that was slowly piling up outside in the dark. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

Mateus’s cheek burned.

 

Kuja was standing in front of his desk when Mateus arrived the next morning. He had his hands pressed together, and was doing his best not to twist his fingers together while he waited. Mateus stopped when he opened the door and saw Kuja standing there. The younger man briefly studied the man’s face for any sign of ire. He didn’t see any, but Mateus Palamecia was often a hard man to read. 

“Is something amiss, Kuja?” Mateus gestured at the desk. “You haven’t cracked the paper open yet.”

“I, um, I was waiting for you to get here, sir.”

“Well, I’m here. So, you may begin working.” Mateus looked down at him, head cocked ever so slightly to the left. Kuja pulled his hands apart and let them hang limply at his sides.

“Sir, I wanted to apologize for my rudeness last night.” 

His boss’s face was an unreadable, barely expressive mask. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“My behavior before I left to go home. I... I shouldn’t have kissed your cheek like that, sir. Especially not without permission.”

Mateus looked down at him. “You feel that action was inappropriate?”

“Yes, sir.” He had realized it as he walked home. What had he been thinking? Mateus should have fired him on the spot for being so forward--what had gotten into him? He supposed it was the intimate closeness of the dark--first in the theater, and then outside. That coupled with the giddy, pleasant feelings that came with fresh snow had led him to such an improper action. At the time he had felt--well, he wasn’t sure now what he had felt. But it had made him feel good in a way that had been lacking in his life for a while.

“A kiss on the cheek is a friendly thing, Kuja. Now, it would have been inappropriate if you had kissed me on the mouth.” Mateus’s eyelids drooped, and he gave Kuja a somewhat smug half smirk. “Or, would you have preferred to have it that way?”

“I-” Kuja opened and closed his mouth. He swallowed. When he dared to put the idea to a mental image, it was tempting. Mateus was a fairly handsome man, and kissing the smugness off that mouth of his wouldn’t have been entirely disagreeable. However, he got the feeling that Mateus was teasing him.

Mateus was staring down at him, the smirk having faded back to his usual neutral expression. There was a faint wrinkle between his brows and extra squint to his eyes that Kuja knew meant the man was thinking. Having that look focused so intently on him was unnerving. After a long moment, Mateus tipped his head slightly to the side, his lips pulling in the briefest hint of a smile. Kuja blushed.

“Don’t be silly, sir.”

He must have taken far too long to respond, because Mateus merely chuckled at his answer. “I see.”

“It’s not funny--I’m trying to apologize for something I feel guilty about.”

Mateus rested a heavy hand on Kuja’s shoulder. He leaned in. “Then, let me absolve you of your guilt.” He closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips to Kuja’s. The younger man’s back tensed in surprise. The kiss was already almost over before his brain caught up and managed to register anything about it. Mateus’s lips were a bit dry, his mouth tasted of his morning coffee and cigarettes, and his the touch of his lips and the slight tease of tongue was gentle but firm. When Mateus moved away, Kuja found himself leaning forward against the pressure of the hand on his shoulder. He quickly leaned back, feeling heat on his cheeks.

“Now we are even,” Mateus said. He turned and went to the window. Kuja went back to his seat and sat. He stared dumbly at the newspaper in front of him. He heard a soft squeak of wood protesting being moved, and a chilly gust against his still warm cheeks, and looked toward his employer. Mateus had opened the window a few inches and was knocking the build up of snow off the exterior sill and bottom of the window. The rest of the snow fell off when he pushed the window shut. He took his usual posture of staring out the window, as though nothing had happened. 

Kuja wondered why his hands were shaking as he opened the paper and spread it flat on his desk. It wasn’t as though he had never been kissed before. Men, and sometimes women, would get too drunk at the Zanarkand and kiss him on the dance floor all the time, and after the first few times it had ceased to faze him. Kuja glanced at Mateus. His long blond hair was hanging loose down his back, the ends fanning slightly and brushing the top of his trousers. Kuja licked his lips, tongue searching for faint hints of what had briefly been there. Coffee, brandy, cigarettes, and what he supposed was strawberry jam. Kuja swallowed again, and looked down at the paper. 

 

Friday night was, as usual at the Zanarkand, very busy. To Mateus, it seemed that the cold weather encouraged even more people to come inside and share their body heat. He left his heavy coat at the coat check, along with what looked like the coats of everyone else in Alexandria, and went inside. The dance floor of the club was packed, even though it was still quite early in the evening. Mateus watched the press of bodies as he made his way along the perimeter. He kept his eyes open for any potential ladies he might want to try sweeping off their feet. He admittedly wasn’t quite sure how he would do that since he had absolutely no idea how to conduct any of the dances the younger men and women were flailing around to. By his best guess, it would be easiest to pick one or two out, wait for them to tire and get thirsty, and then follow them upstairs to the speakeasy. It was much easier for him to work his charms when he wasn’t trying to dance at the same time. Seymour had used to pick on him about that in college.

He found a seat at a table in the back corner and waved down a server. After receiving a drink, Mateus did a quick scan of the room. He noticed Seymour chatting with another patron about halfway down the perimeter, but his friend had not yet noticed him. Mateus settled for sipping his drink and watching the dancers. It was a bit depressing, Mateus thought, that most of the people on the floor were likely local college students, and also probably ten years his junior. If not more. There were plenty of young women that were appealing enough, but they all seemed to be attached to the young men on the floor. Was this the place that today’s college students were taking their dates on Friday nights? He supposed so.

He noticed something else as he gazed around the dance floor. He could not go more than a few minutes without his eyes falling on Kuja. His secretary was there, hard at work, dancing with a man the first time, teaching two young ladies some dance moves the second, and moving to the music alone on the third time. Mateus supposed that there was no harm in watching the man, and so he did. Kuja was wearing a flashy dark green dress with a fluffy skirt that was a few inches too short to be decent, even by flapper standards. The song changed, and Kuja disappeared into the crowd again as another young man grabbed his hands. Mateus hurriedly called for another drink.

Ten minutes or so later, Mateus saw Kuja again. He was closer this time, mirroring the movements of a pretty little blonde girl. Kuja was dancing facing Mateus, and he looked over the girls’s shoulder, catching and holding Mateus’s gaze. Mateus swallowed. Kuja stared at him for a moment longer, eyelids drooping, before winking and turning away.

“It’s a pity he isn’t a woman like the rest of your secretaries, hm?”

Mateus blinked and looked at Seymour. His friend had moved on from another table and now stood off to Mateus’s right. “Whatever do you mean?”

There was something dark in Seymour’s blue eyes. Mateus recognized the jealousy on his friend’s face. “He’s my boyfriend, Mat.”

Yes, well, maybe if you properly treated him like one, his attention wouldn’t be wandering, Mateus thought. “You pay him to flirt with your customers, Seymour. Am I not a customer?”

“Are you going to start paying for drinks now?” Seymour gave him a look that could have ripped through the hull of a warship. Mateus frowned and looked back out to the dance floor. Kuja had disappeared from view amongst the throng of dancers.

“Seymour, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Yes, you do, old friend. And I would request that you keep your eyes to the ladies, and stay out of my own territory.”

Mateus pursed his lips, doing his best to ignore the twinge of annoyance that was scratching at his mind. “Duly noted.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, and then turned his face to the wall. “I think I’m getting too old for this sort of venue.”

Seymour made a soft noise as Mateus got to his feet. “Oh, but, it’s still early.”

“I know.” Mateus brushed off the front of his vest. He pulled out his wallet, retrieved a bill, and slapped it on the table next to his empty glasses. “See you later, Seymour.”

Outside, Ansem was dutifully waiting for him in the shadows across the street. Mateus was buttoning up his heavy coat as Ansem approached.

“No luck, sir?”

“Afraid not.” He pulled a few long strands of hair free from the back collar.

“There are other clubs you could try,” Ansem said.

“I’m aware.” Mateus turned and headed to where his car was parked. Ansem said nothing else and followed.

 

After an hour or so of dancing, Kuja stepped out of the dance hall to take a breather. He kept out of the way so that patrons could move between the dance hall and up the stairs to the speakeasy, and went through a door to the employees only part of the club. It didn’t take him long to notice that he’d been followed. He turned, looking up at Seymour. The proprietor of the Zanarkand had a sour look on his face, and Kuja wondered if perhaps business tonight wasn’t as good as it seemed to be on the dance floor. 

“Is something wrong, hon?” Kuja raised a hand to pat Seymour’s cheek, and the older man briefly frowned.

“I think you know what it is, Kuja.”

“Hm?” He withdrew his hand and rubbed at his bare arms. In the back, away from the heat of the dance floor, it was quite chilly.

“I saw you on the dance floor earlier,” Seymour said. He leaned in, murmuring in Kuja’s ear. The younger man immediately leaned toward the warmth of his body. “I always see you, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So you know I saw you batting your pretty black eyelashes at Mateus.” 

“I was just teasing him.” Kuja looked up at Seymour. “What, did that make you jealous?”

Seymour clenched his jaw. “No, of course not.”

Kuja tried to hide his disappointment. He’d been hoping that a little jealousy might help spur Seymour into some sort of action in his favor, but so far the jealousy that Seymour was obviously trying hide from him was not doing anything productive.

“Mateus is my good friend, Kuja. I’d rather you didn’t mess with him.”

“He can’t be my friend?” Kuja asked, his voice soft.

“No. He’s your boss. There’s a difference.”

“You’re my boss too, Seymour.”

He waved a hand. “That’s different.”

Kuja frowned. “I suppose it is.” He murmured: “I don’t complain when your eyes wander.”

“That’s not what this is about. I just don’t want you bothering Mateus.”

But, what if he’d wanted to be bothered? Kuja had seen the way his daytime boss was looking at him on the dance floor. Glass clenched in his fingers like a life buoy, his pupils wide and dark. Kuja had to keep telling himself that he hadn’t worn this dress just in case Mateus had shown tonight. He had to keep telling himself it was for this job, and not the other, that he hadn’t wanted Mateus to look at him. It felt like lying, but he did it all the same. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just be happy with Seymour. It had all been a lot easier before Kuja had started working for Mateus Palamecia. Not better, but easier.

“Yeah, okay. I understand.”

Seymour gave a soft sigh and nuzzled at Kuja’s hair. “What’s with you lately? I used to see you here six nights a week, but now I’m lucky if you’re regularly here more than just Friday and Saturday.”

“I just haven’t felt like coming in during the week,” Kuja said. “Business is too slow for me to bother.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I suppose that’s true.” He rested a hand on Kuja’s bare arm. Kuja sighed and pulled away. He turned to look up at his boyfriend.

“I’m going to go home. I don’t feel very good tonight.”

Seymour blinked. “Are you sure? It’s Friday night.”

Kuja knew what he meant. Friday night was their night to go to Seymour’s place and fuck and cuddle until nearly dawn. He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“You could rest in my office until it was time for the club to close,” Seymour said.

“No, Seymour, really. I think I’m just going to go home and call it a night.”

“Well... I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”

Kuja nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

Seymour gave him a soft kiss. “Good night, Kuja.”

“See you later, Seymour.”

 

Sephiroth was seated on his bed, running a comb through his silvery hair when Kuja returned from the club. He set the comb down as Kuja tromped in and kicked off his heels.

“You’re home tonight? It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a tiff with Seymour?”

“No, Sephiroth. Just a... minor disagreement.”

Sephiroth watched as Kuja peeled out of his dress and tossed it at the clothes hamper.

“I went out tonight.” 

Kuja paused on his way to his dresser. He blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Mmhmm.” Sephiroth tucked his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “Mother needed some more sugar for your cake. So, I went and got it for her.”

“So, you went to the corner store and back.”

Sephiroth nodded. Kuja pulled a sleep shirt out of its drawer and tugged it on. When he looked at Sephiroth again, his step-brother was smiling softly.

“Well, that’s wonderful, Sephiroth. Were you alright?”

He nodded again. “I wore Father’s old coat. I didn’t realize how much snow had fallen. It was pretty. Cold, though.”

“Maybe you can try that again next week.”

“Maybe.”

Kuja sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. “I’m proud of you.”

Sephiroth leaned into the half-hug. “The man that runs the corner store. Victor... no, Vincent. He was glad to see me. He said that he could use some help around the shop, and that if I wanted to, I could have my old job back.”

“You used to enjoy it a lot,” Kuja said. Sephiroth had worked at the corner store for nearly three years before being sent to Europe during the war. “Maybe you could give it another try.”

“Maybe.” Sephiroth looked down at his fingers, laced together tightly on the outside of his knee. “I think I’d need a bath, though.”

Kuja laughed and gave him another hug. “Yeah, a bath is a good start, Seph.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
December, 1923

When Mateus entered Kuja’s office late Monday morning, he found his secretary half slouched over the big Monday morning paper. He had his chin propped over his left elbow, and a pencil in his right hand, idly poking at the paper. His eyelids were nearly closed. Mateus cleared his throat, and Kuja jerked back to awareness. 

“Long night?” Mateus asked as Kuja sat up. The younger man blushed and shook his head.

“No, sir.”

“How was your birthday?”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good, sir. Very good. I was going to bring you a piece of cake that my mother made, but there wasn’t any left over.”

“That’s quite alright.” Mateus stepped slowly into the room. “Did you spend any time with Seymour?”

Kuja’s expression immediately fell, and he looked back down at the paper. “No, sir.”

Mateus’s thin blond brows rose. “Really? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he supposed to do something for you on your birthday?”

The younger man licked at the corner of his mouth. “It was Sunday. You know how he is about Sundays.”

“Well. You should make sure he makes it up to you tonight. Tonight isn’t Sunday.”

He nodded faintly. “Yes, sir.”

Mateus crossed his arms. “Seymour is my friend, you know. I could talk to him about it for you.”

Kuja looked embarrassed. “Oh no, no. You can’t do that. He’ll think I went and complained about everything to you.”

“Don’t be silly, Kuja. I’m a lawyer. Speaking on behalf of other people is what I do.”

His secretary still shook his head. “No, please don’t. I appreciate the offer, but really, it’s better if you don’t say anything about it to Seymour.”

Mateus frowned as he looked at Kuja. “If you say so.”

“I ask you respectfully, sir.”

He watched the younger man for another minute before shrugging. “Have it your way.” He turned to the door. “Are you coming to lunch?”

Kuja blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yes. I don’t have any lunch meetings today, and I thought I would go out and have something to eat.” He gestured at his secretary. “I wouldn’t object to a bit of company.”

“Oh, well...”

“I’d be paying, of course.”

Kuja blushed. “Alright, sir.”

 

For lunch they went to a place a few blocks from the docks called Selphie’s Diner. Kuja knew well enough that Mateus was scoping out the territory, and didn’t say anything about it. They sat across from each other at a booth and perused a menu before ordering. They picked out what they wanted, and then the waiter brought them their drinks. While waiting on their food, they looked out the diner windows at the foot and vehicle traffic passing by. After a few minutes, Kuja cleared his throat.

“Sir?”

The older man blinked out of his window reverie and looked across the table. “Hm?”

“I’ve been working for you now for over four months, and I was wondering... if I could ask you something personal.”

Mateus didn’t answer for a moment. Then he spoke softly: “Personal? Well, I suppose you can ask, as long as you don’t get offended if I choose not to answer.”

“Fair enough.”

He set down his glass. “Ask away, then.”

Kuja stared at him, into his eyes, for far longer than was probably appropriate. “Have you ever considered having your eyes checked?”

Mateus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your eyes. You squint all the time, and I was just wondering if perhaps you needed glasses.”

Mateus stared back at him, his expression carefully blank except for a telltale infusion of pink appearing on his cheeks. Kuja smiled.

“Too personal? I’m sorry.”

“Yes. No. I mean--” Mateus broke the gaze and looked down at the table top. “Truth be told, I do actually have reading glasses, but I’ve chosen not to wear them.”

“Is it because of Quistis?”

He frowned. “No. It had nothing to do with her, but I’d rather you not bring that up again.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Mateus picked up his glass and took a sip of water. “I haven’t really worn them since I finished law school. I suppose the squint has become part of my persona without me meaning it to. It seems to intimidate people.”

“Ah, I see.” Kuja rubbed his thumb along the side of his glass, wiping off a bit of condensation. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in them some time. I bet they’d make you look quite handsome.”

He spoke in a deadpan. “Are you implying that I don’t normally look handsome?”

Now it was Kuja’s turn to blush. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that I’m at liberty to answer that question, sir.”

“Off the record, then.”

Kuja looked at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the waiter arriving with their food. They sat in the quiet of eating for several minutes, before Mateus cleared his throat.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I know.” Kuja smiled wryly. “I was trying to avoid getting myself into trouble.”

“Is the answer that bad?”

“I don’t know, sir. Am I being paid to tell you that you’re attractive?”

“Of course not. I’d expect you to be able to do that much for free.”

Kuja tutted and continued eating. Mateus gave a little shrug and did the same. They ate in silence again, listening to the din of the other diner patrons and the news piping over the radio. Kuja looked out the windows again, his eyes tracking drips of water from where the noontime sun was melting the snow on the roof. The sky visible above the city buildings was clear and blue.

“It’s supposed to snow again tonight,” he said. Mateus swallowed and reached for his glass.

“Is it? At this rate, I’m going to have to get a sled and some dogs.”

Kuja laughed. “A sled? Did you ever go to Garland’s Hill when you were little?”

Mateus smiled. “For a few winters, yes, until my brother stopped wanting to go. Or, rather, stopped wanting to take me. My mother wouldn’t let me go there alone, so Belias had to take me if I wanted to go sledding. After that I just had to play in the back yard.”

“I used to go there all the time with my brothers. We only had two sleds, though, so we’d have to take turns going down the hill.”

“When was the last time you went?” Mateus picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

“Hmm. Probably the winter we were at war. By the time it was over the next winter, I was eighteen, and Sephiroth was back and... Well, it didn’t seem like a time to be having fun.”

“And now?”

Kuja smiled for a moment, before the look faded and he reached for his soup spoon. “Now... Now, I’m older and I have fun in different ways.”

“You mean going out and dancing.”

“Amongst other things, yes.” He slurped a bit of soup.

“Other things. Yes. Well.” Mateus cleared his throat. “Do you ever do any other sort of dancing?” At Kuja’s doubtful look, he continued: “Ballroom dancing. You know, uh, the waltz or tango or foxtrot...”

Kuja chuckled. “Well, anyone can foxtrot, sir. That’s kind of the point of the dance.” He set his spoon down. “As for the others, well... I haven’t had much use of them since I was in school. My girlfriend liked going out dancing, though I always thought it was a bit too intimate for my tastes.”

Mateus blinked. “Your girlfriend? I thought...”

“That I prefer men? Oh, I do.” He waved a hand. “But in school, I had to pretend to be normal, you know? I never had a boyfriend until after I graduated.” Kuja glanced around the busy diner and lowered his voice. “So I can safely say from experience that women are not for me. Too squishy upstairs and what’s going on downstairs gave me nightmares.” Kuja blushed at Mateus’s laugh. “What? It’s true!”

“I just never realized...” Mateus cleared his throat again and took another sip of water. “How is a man better?”

“We men are much simpler creatures,” Kuja said. He smiled at Mateus. “With another man, there’s no surprises. What he’s got is what you’ve got, and you know how all the equipment works. Easy to please, and you know when he’s done.” Kuja smirked at the blush that crept onto Mateus’s cheeks. “What, too detailed for you, sir?”

“No, no, I just... I suppose I never thought of it before. I mean, woman was made to be with man, right?”

“Sure they were. But, they’re not for everybody. I mean, there are types of food that are great, but not everybody likes. Or maybe they get sick when they eat them. Like my step-brother Loz. He can’t eat seafood without getting really sick.”

“So you’re comparing women to seafood?”

“The smell’s the same.”

Mateus laughed again and shook his head. “You truly are something different, Kuja.”

The younger man smirked across the table. “I’m going to take that as a free compliment, sir.”

 

It was snowing on Monday evening when Mateus arrived at the Zanarkand. Despite their uneasy departure a few nights before, Seymour did not hesitate to open the doors for him and let him in out of the weather. 

“Mateus, do come in. Have a seat, I’ll get you something to drink.” He held the door open, and Mateus slipped inside out of the cold evening. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to see you here again so soon.”

The elder man brushed a bit of snow off his shoulders. “To be equally honest, I hadn’t expected to be coming here again so soon myself.”

“What’s changed, then?”

Mateus didn’t say anything, he just sat at an empty table. It wasn’t until Seymour brought down a bottle of brandy and poured them each a glass that he said anything.

“Tell me, Seymour, how was your weekend?”

“My weekend? A bit dull, to be honest. I mean, business was good, but I didn’t get in some of the recreation that I usually enjoy.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged. “Kuja didn’t feel well on Friday night, so he didn’t come home with me. And he didn’t stay the whole night on Saturday, either.”

Mateus took a sip of his brandy. “Something wrong with him?”

Seymour frowned. “Perhaps he’s coming down with a cold. It’s that time of year, and he has a lot of siblings.”

“Perhaps.” He stared into his glass. “Maybe you need to get out more, Seymour.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... what happened to the hobbies you used to have in college? When we were younger? You used to go out and do things. Now you’re just a recluse that stays here in the club all the time.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it? You’re half oblivious to the world around you.”

Seymour’s frown deepened. “That really isn’t true.”

“Then, what was this weekend?”

He hesitated.

“Seymour...”

“Sunday was Kuja’s birthday,” Seymour said. “I know. I’m not so horrible of a person that I’d forget. Especially not after he’s reminded me weekly for the last month.”

“You didn’t spend it with Kuja.”

“No, I didn’t. He didn’t seem interested in making plans when he left Saturday night. I told you, he seemed off.” Seymour took a gulp of his brandy. “Besides, we don’t usually spend much time together on Sundays. I spend half the day at Church or with my mother, and Kuja seems to prefer spending Sunday nights sitting around the radio with his family playing board games.”

“You didn’t at least ask? Or take him a present or something?”

“No, I figured I would just make it up to him this coming weekend.”

Mateus sighed softly. He sipped his brandy. “Have you ever considered that you might be a bad boyfriend, Seymour?”

Seymour grimaced. “Did you come here just to attack me?”

“No, I came here because I’ve become concerned about my secretary’s well being.”

He scoffed. “What do you care?”

“I could ask much the same of you.” Mateus turned his glass slowly on the table top. “I know you aren’t comfortable with your sexuality, Seymour, but you really shouldn’t be taking it out on your boyfriend.”

“He’s happy with how things are.”

“Is he? Do you really think that’s true?”

“He wouldn’t be dating me if it weren’t.”

“When was the last time you took Kuja out somewhere? And I don’t even mean something excessively public like a nice dinner. Something relatively private, like a movie.”  
Seymour looked away. “I just don’t like doing that sort of thing.”

“How do you think that makes him feel?”

“I really don’t think this is any of your business.”

“You’re my friend, and he is my employee. That makes it my business, at least in some small part.” Mateus didn’t really feel like having this disagreement again.

Seymour worked his jaw. “Did he send you here to make a scene for him?”

“No. I’m here of my own volition.” Mateus shook his head minutely. “In fact, Kuja asked me not to bother you about this. But, he’s unhappy, Seymour. Surely, you can see that.”

“He isn’t unhappy.”

“Please, Seymour, I don’t want to fight with you over this. Can’t you please just put a little more effort into your boyfriend’s happiness than making sure the sex is good?”

For a long moment Seymour was silent. Then he looked back to Mateus, something sad in his expression that his friend did not know the name of. “Yes, I can try, my friend. For you, because you are my friend.”

“I hope you’re being sincere, my friend.” Mateus stared across the table at Seymour. “Because if you don’t, I might have to do it, myself.”

 

A bit more than a week later, on the Wednesday before Christmas, Kuja sat in Mateus’s office. They were both drinking brandy and listening to the strains of Christmas music coming from the radio. 

“Now, to review, our last day of business for this year will be on Friday, December 21st. My offices will be closed until then, barring an emergency.” Mateus squinted at a piece of paper. “We’ll reopen on the 3rd of January, and pick up work on the Kinneas case then.”

Kuja looked at the calendar in front of him. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Good. I’ll pass the information on to my brother, so he knows to leave me well enough alone next week.” He smiled. “Aside from Christmas, of course.”

“Of course.” Kuja was perched on the edge of a chair and holding a notebook with various information regarding the end of the year jotted down on it. “Was there anything else?”

“No, I think that about covers it all for now.” Mateus picked up the half-empty glass of brandy that rested on his desk and took a sip. “Now then. What are you doing for Christmas? Going out of town again with your family?”

“Hm? Oh, no. Mother decided that she wanted to stay home for Christmas this year. Everyone spent the weekend getting a tree and decorating everything.” Kuja smiled, and Mateus’s face echoed the expression.

“That sounds lovely. What will you be doing?”

“Just spending time with my family. Maybe catch up on some of my reading while I’m not working.”

“Going to the Zanarkand at all?”

“Maybe on New Year’s eve. That’s always a good party.” He bit his lower lip. “Otherwise, I think I’ll just leave Seymour in peace for the holiday.”

“What do you mean?”

Kuja hesitated. “I.. Well... I do care about Seymour. I like him a lot. But, it’s just... sometimes I feel like he thinks I’m a burden.”

Mateus shook his head. “Oh, no, Kuja. If someone thinks that you’re a burden to them, then they don’t deserve to have you.”

“Don’t say that, sir. Seymour is your good friend.”

“And I have tried to be a good friend in return and warned him that he is failing in his duties to you.”

Kuja blushed. “He doesn’t have any duties to me, sir. I’m just his boyfriend, and only really when I’m at the club.” He looked down, eyes focusing on the paper in his lap. “I’ve accepted that.”

“That’s a rather miserable thing to have to accept,” Mateus said.

“Haven’t you ever had a good thing go flat?”

“Perhaps, when I was younger. But, when it did, I let it go. There’s no sense in dragging out a relationship just for sentiment’s sake. Especially if you’re not married, or there’s no children involved.”

Kuja pursed his lips. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re single.”

“I suppose so.” Mateus took another sip of his drink. “Tell me, Kuja. What do you want to do with your life?”

“My life? I... don’t really know. No major plans.” His narrow shoulders rose and fell once.

“You can’t just work odd jobs and dance at clubs forever, can you? This age of fancy will pass, and you’ll get older, and then where will you be?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I try not to think about it.” Kuja gave a meager smile, but did not look up.

“Well, it’s something you should put some thought to. Not that I don’t enjoy having you as my secretary, but you shouldn’t limit yourself to this.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

For a moment they were both quiet. Mateus cleared his throat and stood.

“Now then. One more thing before I let you go for the day.” He pulled open one of his desk drawers, and retrieved from it a small bundle of greenery. Kuja looked at it, considering the rounded green leaves and the small white berries on the sprig in Mateus’s hand.

“Sir?”

“I like to share a little holiday spirit with my secretary. It’s a bit of a tradition for me.” He gestured with the mistletoe. “As long as my secretary doesn’t object, of course.”

Kuja swallowed and got to his feet. He set down his notebook on the edge of Mateus’s desk. “No, sir, I don’t object.”

Mateus smiled. “Good.” He rounded the desk and stood in front of Kuja. The younger man’s eyes tracked the movement of the greenery as Mateus lifted it over his head. 

“Oh, look at that,” Kuja said softly. “I seem to have found myself underneath the mistletoe.”

“What luck,” Mateus said. He leaned down, his free hand moving to touch Kuja’s chin and tilt his head back.

The kiss was curious, tentative--executed as though wary of backlash from its recipient. But none came. When it ended, Kuja’s cheeks were red.

“That mistletoe is potent stuff,” he murmured.

“It certainly is.” Mateus set the sprig down on his desk. He held Kuja’s face in his hands, thumbs lightly tracing over his warm cheeks. Then he kissed the younger man again. It seemed that they stayed like this for a very long time, but when the second kiss had ended, the music chiming lightly from the radio had not changed. Mateus released his grip on Kuja, ghosting his lips over the younger man’s forehead as Kuja shyly looked down.

“Kuja, I was wondering...” His voice was low and a bit rough.

“Yes, sir?”

“Perhaps, would you like to go out with me some time? Not just a free lunch, mind you. I’d like to see you outside of work.”

Kuja looked up at him. He smiled and rose up on his toes. His lips brushed against the older man’s.

“Yes, Mateus. I’d like that a lot.”

 

On Thursday evening, Kuja made his way carefully down the sidewalk. It had snowed again the night before, and the snow had melted some during the day, making the walk a bit slippery. He held his left hand out for balance. His right hand was clasped tightly by his companion.

“You doing alright?” Kuja looked up from the sidewalk for a moment. Next to him, Sephiroth nodded. His gloved hand was squeezing Kuja’s tightly, almost to the point of being painful.

“I’m good.” He was carrying a shopping bag tucked in his right arm. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Well, Mother needed a lot of extra things for her baking. You shouldn’t have to pick that up on your own.”

“Still.”

“Still. You’re welcome.” Kuja glanced up at his step-brother. Sephiroth’s green eyes were a bit wide, and he looked slightly queasy. “It’s okay, we’re almost home.”

“I know, I know. I’m fine. Really.”

He chuckled. “You look like you’re going to vomit.”

“I haven’t, yet, though.”

“Fair enough.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re gonna break off my fingers, Seph.”

“Sorry. I don’t want to slip.” Sephiroth looked around and stopped so suddenly that Kuja nearly did fall.

“What the hell, Sephiroth?”

“There’s a guy following us over on the other side of the street.”

“What?” For a moment Kuja felt uneasy. He had been working for the Palamecia family long enough that certainly he would be considered an enemy of anyone associated with the Shinra. Mateus had warned him several times that he needed to be careful when going out alone. After all, Quistis hadn’t been careful.

“Over there.” Sephiroth jerked his chin to the other side of the street. Kuja looked in the direction he indicated. After a car passed, he saw a tall, solid figure standing next to a street sign and staring across the street at them. He wasn’t sure at first, but then the man pointedly turned his face away. Even in the dim light from the street lamps, Kuja recognized the pale, shimmering hair and the dark skin.

“Oh, that’s Ansem. He’s my boss’s bodyguard.” Kuja considered the man. “He follows me around. I just have stopped noticing.”

“Why is he following us?”

“He’s following me, not us. Just keep walking; we’re almost home.”

“But--”

“It’s just something he does. I don’t know why. Mr. Palamecia says he likes to keep tabs on as many things as possible, including his secretaries. Especially them, I guess, considering that he’s had trouble with their trustworthiness.”

“So, he’s making sure you’re not hooking up with some member of the Shinra family on the side.”

“Something like that, yeah.” They stopped in front of the front door to their home. Kuja turned and faced the opposite side of the street. Ansem had continued following, trailing behind them like a wary cat. Kuja gave a little wave and called: “This is my step-brother, Sephiroth!”

Across the street, Ansem gave a little nod, and then continued on into the shadowy night. Kuja sighed and shook his head.

“Strange guy,” Sephiroth said.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a word for him.” Kuja looked up at Sephiroth, and was surprised to find that his face was quite calm and focused. He no longer looked quite as queasy, either.   
“Well, let’s go inside so Mother can get back to baking, okay?”

Sephiroth nodded. “Yeah. Thanks again, Kuja.”

He smiled. “That’s what family is for, Seph.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning: Little bit of something naughty hiding in there.
> 
> This is a long chapter, and it's also probably my favorite chapter in the whole story. I hope you all enjoy it, too, and thanks everyone for the lovely comments!

Chapter Eleven

On Saturday night, Kuja stood at his usual post in front of his closet, trying to decide which dress to wear to the Zanarkand that night. It was a bit drafty in the house, and so he had his dressing gown on instead of just standing in his drawers. Sephiroth had abandoned the safety of his bed and was presently in the kitchen eating Christmas cookies and listening to Zidane talk about his day at work. A knock came on the open bedroom door, and his youngest step-brother, Kadaj, poked his head into the room.

“Hey, Kuj. There’s a fella at the front door asking for you.”

Kuja looked over his shoulder. “What? Who is it?”

“I dunno, just some fella.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.”

His mother was standing in the kitchen doorway when Kuja passed. She looked a bit cross.

“If it’s that sin-peddling boy-friend of yours, you need to tell him that he needs to find better manners. I don’t care if it is Saturday night, you don’t call on someone so late.”

“Yes, Mother.” He pulled the front door open. Standing on the other side of the door was a man wearing a dark cap and a long, luxuriantly furred dark gray coat. It took Kuja a moment before he recognized the familiarly squinting violet eyes that peered out from under the cap. The man seemed entirely different, though, because his long blond hair was not drifting absently behind him in the evening breeze.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Kuja said as he closed the front door behind him. The other man smiled.

“Is it?”

“So far, yeah.” He gestured at Mateus. “Where’s your hair?”

“Under my coat,” he said. “I’m in disguise.”

“Oh, I see.” Kuja looked up and down the street, but he did not see a familiar, stalkerish silhouette amongst the traffic. “Where’s Ansem?”

“Sent him home for the night.”

Kuja blinked in surprise. “What, really?”

“Hence the disguise. Besides, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” Mateus shrugged. “If someone wants to attack me three nights before Christmas, let them. It’ll say a lot more about their character than my own.”

“Brave words.” Kuja rubbed at his arms. “What are you doing here, sir?”

“Please, it’s Mateus.” He smiled. “We’re not working right now.”

“If you say so. Same question.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go ice skating with me.” He held up his gloved left hand, from which dangled a pair of dark leather boots with blades attached to their bottoms. 

“What, right now?”

“Yes, before it starts snowing again.”

Kuja licked his lower lip. “It’s Saturday night, Mateus. I have to go work at the Zanarkand.”

“Take the night off. Spend it with me.”

His cheeks pinked more than the cold could be blamed for. “It’s a tempting demand, but I have to work.”

“You can afford to take a night off.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You probably make more in a week than I do in a year.” 

Mateus tilted his head to the side a bit as he considered the statement. “Oh, definitely. Quite a bit more. My brother probably makes more in a day than you do in a year.”

“Then, what are you doing standing out in the cold with a nobody like me?”

“Asking you to go ice skating with me.”

Kuja leaned against the door, still rubbing his arms. “And, what if I say no?”

“Then I’ll have to change my plans and go to the Zanarkand instead.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because, I just do.” He reached with his free hand and brushed his somewhat shaggy blond bangs from his eyes. “I’m not one to question things, I just go with them.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you’re standing out here in your dressing gown, half freezing to death, arguing with me about pointless details when you could have just said no and gone inside already.”

“I’m not going to invite you in. My brother the cop is in the kitchen, and my mother would die of embarrassment if she found out a mob family underboss had suddenly decided he was sweet on me.”

Mateus sighed. “Fine, fine, forget I asked.” He scowled and half turned away. “I’ll see you next year, at the office.”

“No, Mat--” Kuja touched his shoulder. “Don’t pout like that, it’s unseemly of your position.”

“My position doesn’t do much for me right now.” Mateus looked back at him. “You know, if I were my brother and you were a woman he wanted, you wouldn’t get a say in what you were doing tonight. He would just have someone come by and pick you up and take him to whatever place he wanted to go.”

“Doesn’t your brother have a wife and three children?”

“That hasn’t stopped him before.”

Kuja sighed. “Well, I suppose then that you’re a somewhat better example of a decent human being than he is. Although, considering what you do, that’s saying something.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Mateus said. Kuja smiled.

“Yeah, if anyone asks, you’re a lawyer.” He shook his head.

“I’ll be seeing you, then.”

“Mateus, wait.” Kuja held onto the soft surface of his coat sleeve. “Just give me a few minutes to get dressed, okay?”

It took the older man a moment to get what was being said, but then he nodded vigorously. “Of course. I can wait.”

“Good. Just stay out here. And try slouching a bit; it’ll make you less conspicuous.”

 

Kuja got fully dressed, found his ice skates, and put on his coat. Then he said good night to his family and headed outside. There he found Mateus leaning idly against the side of a dark red Packard that was parked nearby. Kuja made an appreciative noise as he approached.

“Nice car. Are we going very far?”

“Just over to the park. But, it’s cold, so there’s no sense in walking that far.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They drove across town to where the city’s more affluent residents lived. The beautiful homes sparkled in the dark, and Kuja caught sight of holiday decorations in the big windows. The lawns of some of the homes were packed with cars and people, but Kuja couldn’t tell just from looking if they were having holiday parties or just an average Saturday night. Mateus stopped his car at Highwind Park. The place wasn’t very busy, compared to the rest of the street they had just gone down.

“Oh, I thought we were going to the memorial park,” Kuja said. He got out of the car and retrieved his skates from the floorboards. Mateus gave a little sniff.

“It’d be too crowded.”

“Oh, I see.” Kuja chuckled. “You want to have me to yourself, is that it?”

“Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.”

They traversed a stone path that had been cleared of snow, making their way through the shimmering landscape and down to a lake. It had frozen over, and it gleamed like a mirror in the light of the nearly full moon. The sky overhead was clear, though there were clouds on the horizon, and the big moon cast a bluish-white sheen to everything. The snow sparkled, the lake shone, and even Kuja’s breath fogging in front of his face seemed to catch the brilliant light.

“It’s lovely,” Kuja said.

“Yes, it is,” Mateus said. His gaze went from Kuja out to the lake. “You do know how to skate, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!”

He smirked. “Good. I’m a horrible teacher.”

They sat on a bench and switched their boots out for their ice skates. Kuja looked around as he laced up his skates. There were only a few other people visible, off on the other side of the lake. He watched as Mateus finished and made his way to the frozen bank.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Safe as anything. This lake is rather shallow, so it freezes sooner than the others in town.” He took a few steps, and then glided out onto the ice. Kuja huffed and finished with the other laces. When he was ready, he followed Mateus out onto the ice. He felt a bit self conscious about it, since he hadn’t gone skating in nearly two years. Mateus was turning in a slow circle on the ice, and doing his best to not look like he was watching Kuja.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh, I can tell you want to.”

“What? You’re doing just fine. Look, you’re ten feet from the shore and you’re not on your ass.”

Kuja reached him and swatted his arm. “Don’t jinx me.”

They skated around for about half an hour, Kuja mostly focusing on not falling while Mateus traversed the ice in graceful, slow loops around his companion. They were near the middle of the lake when Kuja stopped to catch his breath. Mateus slid to a stop next to him.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah, yes. Just out of practice.” He looked up at Mateus. “You’re a better skater than I expected.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Mateus slowly skated backwards, arms crossed over his chest. “I used to play ice hockey when I was in school. Was on the school team and everything.”

“I’d have never guessed,” Kuja said with a laugh. “You never struck me as the sports playing type.”

“It was mostly just hockey, to be honest. I never cared much for the summer sports.” He passed Kuja in a broad loop. “You?”

“Uh, I was usually too girly to get picked for anything. I was a good runner when I was younger, though. Would play baseball sometimes with my brothers. But that was about it. I preferred to sit still and read.” Kuja shivered as a breeze gusted across the surface of the lake.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Mateus took one of Kuja’s gloved hands in his own. “Are you getting cold?”

“A bit. My sweat is getting cold, at least.” Kuja laughed lamely. Mateus nodded, and then looked up at the sky. The clouds were growing closer, and a few thin wisps were already reaching out to block some of the moon’s glow.

“We could go somewhere else, if you’d like. We don’t have to stay out here in the cold.” He winked. “I’m sure we could find a way to warm up.”

Kuja laughed and shoved his arm lightly. “Oh, you’re just jumping right into this, aren’t you? You do remember that I’m a man, right? Not your usual cup of tea?”

“I’m permitted to drink whatever I want,” Mateus said.

“That’s very forward thinking of you.”

“I suppose it is.” He slowly led Kuja back to the snow covered bank. “You have to understand, Kuja, I’m interested in you for you. Not because of your gender.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” They sat on the bench where they had started. “Though, to be quite frank, it’s new to me. I’ve never really had to...” He gestured at the air.

“Try before?” At a mildly embarrassed grunt from Mateus, Kuja laughed. “You’re attractive enough, Mateus, I’m sure you’ve never had trouble getting a woman to jump into bed with you before.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He swallowed. “You’re attractive too. For a man. I mean--”

Kuja laughed again. “I know what you mean, Mateus.”

“Yes, well. I’m glad that doesn’t need too much explanation.” He coughed. “If you’d like, we could go back to my place? Have something warm to drink?”

The younger man smiled. “Sure, I’d like that.”

 

They changed out of their skates and loaded into Mateus’s car. It was a short drive, just outside the older, more affluent part of the city, to the line of townhouses where Mateus lived. His home was a three story townhouse that blended in with the others on the street. Kuja took it all in, curious about what his employer called home. There was a wreath on the front door. Inside on the first floor was the kitchen and sitting area. A small Christmas tree took up some of the space near the picture window that looked out on to the street. The stairs leading up to the second floor were draped in greenery.

“My mother came by and decorated,” Mateus said, his tone apologetic.

“It’s nice, Mateus, really.” Kuja smiled. “You live in this place all by yourself?”

“It’s better than living at home with my mother and brother and his family.” He gestured at the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

Kuja left his boots by the front door and hung his coat on the rack, and padded into the sitting area on sock feet. He deposited himself on a dark blue couch that was soft but creaked softly under his weight. He looked at the Christmas tree. “I guess I’m used to living with a lot of people you know? I think I’d go crazy without anyone else. A cat, at least.”

Mateus went into the kitchen. “I’m afraid that I’m a bit too absentminded to keep a pet.”

“You, absentminded?” 

He heard the older man chuckle. “Why do you think I have to have a secretary to manage my days?” Mateus returned from the kitchen. He took off his coat and hung it by the door, freeing his hair in the process. It was bound back in a braid that had probably been neater before he had gone out ice skating. Kuja smiled.

“You look like an entirely different person without your hair.”

Mateus ran a hand down the back of his head. “Oh, I know. It works on my enemies just as well as you.”

“I like your hair long.”

“So do I.” He went back into the kitchen. Mateus returned after a minute carrying two coffee mugs. “Here you go.”

Kuja took one of the mugs and considered its steaming contents. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate, with a bit extra.”

He took a sip, and then grimaced. “Chocolate and what else?”

“Whiskey.”

“Mateus, I am a bit doubtful of your definition of the word ‘bit’.”

The blond man sipped from his mug. “It’s not that bad.”

“Your taste buds must be half dead from smoking so much.”

“Maybe.” Mateus sat next to Kuja on the couch. “I could make something else for you.”

“No... no, this will be alright. Thank you.” He took another sip, but managed to disguise any reaction to the drink. “Is it hard, having so many enemies?”

“Sometimes.” Mateus put his heels on the coffee table, knocking a newspaper off in the process. “I suppose if all I was doing was being a lawyer, I would still have enemies.”

“I’d be half afraid to go outside, if I were you.” Kuja turned the mug in his hands.

“I’m no coward.”

“Neither am I.” Kuja looked at him. “I mean, I work for you, don’t I? And now I’m sitting here in your parlor, having a drink. I must be either courageous or stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t live my day-to-day waiting for someone to try to kill me. I mean, that’s the point of having a bodyguard. But, I try not to worry too much about it. Life’s too short.”

Kuja didn’t say anything in response to this. He instead focused on emptying his mug of its somewhat foul contents. Mateus was quiet next to him. His presence was warm and reassuring, the confident master of his little domain. Kuja set his empty mug on the rosewood surface of the coffee table, and then leaned into the plush back of the couch. He shifted his weight slightly to the left and pressed gently against Mateus’s side. The older man transferred his mug to his left hand, and then moved his right arm to wrap around Kuja’s shoulders.

“Sometimes I think I might like to leave this life behind,” Mateus said, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“Hmm?” Kuja rested his head on Mateus’s shoulder. His head buzzed slightly from the hot chocolate.

“I’ve never really cared for the city. It’s too noisy, too crowded these days. Alexandria was quieter when I was a boy.”

Kuja gave an amused little snort. “What, would you rather live in the countryside, in some posh manor?”

“Maybe. Or a quiet little place by the ocean. Private stretch of beach, of course.”

“Something to consider for retirement, I guess.”

“If I live that long.” He sighed. “I’ll probably end up shot dead like my father was.”

Kuja picked at the edge of his jacket vest. “I’m sorry.”

“No sense in that. I would have ended up in this position eventually.” He took a sip from his mug. 

“When’s your birthday, Mateus?”

“January 21st,” he said. “I’ll be thirty-two.” He sighed again. “Thirty-two, and what do I have to show for it.”

Kuja touched the hand that was draped along his right shoulder. “You probably have more than you realize.”

“And what are things good for, in the end?”

He tutted softly. “Such morbidity during what should be a happy time of year. You’re starting to sound like Seymour.”

“Seymour has gone to far darker pastures than I have reached,” Mateus murmured. “Is that why you don’t love him any more?”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“When I first met you this summer you were still flush faced with your affection for him. And now you are skipping out on seeing him to sit on the couch of one of his closest friends.”

“Love is a fickle thing among the hearts of the young,” Kuja said. “And, I am still young, Mateus.”

“Twenty-three is still fairly young, yes. But, how could he lose your favor so quickly?”

“Why do you ask?”

“So I don’t make the same mistakes that he has.”

Kuja blushed. “I think I’ll need some more whiskey if you’re going to get all sentimental on me. I mean, we barely know each other.”

“Nonsense. I probably know more about you than any of the last few fellows you’ve dated.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of... of... I haven’t actually been with that many guys. Just a few, really.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t accusing you of anything untoward.”

“I hope not.” Kuja picked lightly at the dark blue linen of Mateus’s shirt sleeve.

“I think I would very much like the chance to be more intimate with you, Kuja,” the older man said in a soft voice. “But, I don’t want to rush it. I don’t... I want to be able to look you in the eye when we see each other at work again next year.”

“Do you think you’d respect me less if you had sex with me?”

Mateus’s jaw worked. “That seems to be the running tally.”

“I know I dance at a jazz club, but I’m not some paid woman,” Kuja said.

“I know.” Mateus was quiet for a moment. “It’s sad. Everyone likes you, and cares about you, but not enough to keep you.”

Kuja was quiet in return. then he shrugged and smiled ruefully. “I guess I’m just that kind of guy.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” Mateus’s hand moved to squeeze Kuja’s shoulder. The younger man sighed.

“I’m not some thing to be kept, to be conquered, Mateus. I know I’ve got a pretty face, but I’m not some dumb doll.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of that.”

“Then, what?”

“I don’t quite know, just yet.”

 

When Kuja woke, it was to the orange and pink glow of dawn blooming through a pair of thin white curtains. For several minutes he just considered that glow, that hazy warmth, until he realized that he was not entirely sure where he was or how he had come to be there. He sat up and looked around. He was in a small, plainly decorated bedroom, sitting on top of the covers with a blanket now gathering in his lap. Kuja looked down--he was still completely dressed. He rubbed at his eyes as he got up from the bed, letting the blanket pool on the bare wooden floor. He stretched his arms over his head, his brain telling him he must have dozed off while sitting on the couch with Mateus the night before. But, where was Mateus now?

He toed in sock feet out of the bedroom and onto a small landing that surrounded the staircase. There was a second door, which he found locked, and more stairs leading up. So, he was on the second floor. Curious, Kuja made his way up to the third floor. There was only a single room here, a spawling bedroom with a large bed and a big old, heavy looking dresser that must have been a nightmare to get up the stairs. The bed was empty and made, though, so Kuja went down to the first floor. As he descended the final steps, the sound of the radio met his ears and the smell of coffee assailed his nose. His stomach growled.

“Did you carry me up the stairs?” Kuja called, although he didn’t see Mateus in the sitting room. A familiar blond head poked into the kitchen doorway. His boss gave him an impish smile.

“You fell asleep in an underboss’s presence. That wasn’t very wise, you know. I could have done horrible things to you.”

“I’m still completely clothed.”

“And here I thought you had a better imagination than that.” Mateus stepped into the doorway. He was still wearing the same pants from last night, but was down to just his rumpled, half unbuttoned shirt.

“I don’t think I know you quite well enough to unleash my imagination on you, sir.”

“Fair enough.” Mateus half turned away. “The bathroom is over there, if you need it. Did you want some coffee?”

“Not just yet. No breakfast?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Seymour usually cooks breakfast.”

“Well, then maybe you should’ve went home with him last night.” He picked up a coffee mug. “Oh, that’s right, you’re cross with Seymour for some reason, so you came home with me, instead.”

“I had no idea you were so sassy before you’ve had enough coffee.” Kuja sighed. “It’s okay, I can go home.”

“You can stay.” Mateus’s voice softened. “I’m... sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude to you.”

“Good. I’m going to wash my face off. I probably look horrible.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

Kuja turned on the bathroom light. His first impression was that the bathroom looked clean, but also small. However, the cramped quarters were in reality due to a full sized bath tub that took up much of the available space.

“That’s an awful lot of tub, Mateus.”

“Yes, it did take an act of Congress to get it in there, but I wanted it.”

Kuja washed his face in the sink and used one of the multitude of combs littering the small counter top to put his hair back to rights. He peered at his reflection.

“I need a haircut.”

“You look fine.”

“I’ll take my grooming advice from someone who doesn’t have hair to his butt, thank you.” Kuja returned to the kitchen and sat at the small table there.

“Did you want some coffee?” Mateus asked again.

“Not on an empty stomach.”

“Well, we’ll have to go out to some place that’s open on Sunday morning.”

“Good thing I’m already dressed.”

 

Mateus got re-dressed and re-braided his long hair, and after bundling into their coats they headed down the street. It had snowed a little more overnight, and people were busily scraping the fresh snow off the sidewalks and the streets. The cold morning air was filled with the shrieks of children playing in the snow.

“I know I could learn to cook, but I haven’t needed to. There’s just too many places in the city to go to for food.”

Kuja smiled up at Mateus, a hand hooked lightly in his elbow for balance. “Well, to be fair, my cooking experience is limited to boiling water and making toast.”

“You’re already ahead of me, then.” Mateus glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, hello, Ansem.”

Kuja tried not to visibly jerk in surprise. His boss’s bodyguard was nearly silent, and Kuja had sincerely not noticed him fall into step behind them.

“Good morning, sir,” Ansem rumbled.

“I thought I told you to take the night off.”

“You did. I did. It’s morning.”

“Yes, I know, but I’m not going to be doing anything today. Just getting something to eat.” He waved a hand. “Can’t you take another day off?”

“Yes, sir, but...”

“But, what?”

“There’s been two Shinra goons following you and Mr. Tribal since you left your house.”

“Oh.” Mateus didn’t stop walking. “I’d thought the disguise was working.”

“Mr. Tribal isn’t disguised.”

“Hadn’t thought of that.” He tilted his head toward Kuja, who was doing his best not to look behind them. “See? Secretary and bodyguard are both needed.” He coughed lightly. “Anyone you recognize, Ansem?”

“Just two of their usual grunts.”

“Well, go distract them while we get breakfast, alright?”

“With pleasure, sir.”

Kuja waited until Ansem had disappeared behind them. “He seems to enjoy violence a great deal.”

“He does. That’s why I hired him.”

They slipped into a diner that was not yet very busy, since the Sunday post-Church crowds had not yet arrived. They took seats at a booth away from the windows. The waiter cheerfully wished them a Merry Christmas after disappearing to the back with their order. Kuja leaned on the table and sipped his coffee.

“So, what are your plans for today?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Mateus had already nearly drained his coffee. “Thought I might just stay inside and read. Peruse a few journals I’ve fallen behind on reading. You?”

Kuja blushed as he felt Mateus’s foot bump against his own. “I’m not one to make plans. They tend to get ruined when I do.”

“I see.” Mateus set his empty mug down. The waiter quickly came by and refilled the mug.

“Fast service.”

“They know who I am. My brother owns the property.”

“Oh.” Kuja licked his lips. “What are you going to do for Christmas?”

“Probably spend a bit of it with my family at the old house. Spend the rest of it at home, alone with a bottle of something illegal.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about work the next day.”

“Probably.” Mateus smiled. “You?”

“Oh, at home with the family. A few relatives are coming in to town to visit. Big dinner, all that stuff.”

He took a gulp of coffee after adding sugar to it. “Sounds smothering.”

“It can be. But, it’s the holidays, right? That’s what those are for.” Kuja hummed with the cheery tune on the radio. “And then on New Year’s Eve I’ll probably be working at the Zanarkand. They always have a big party there.”

“Maybe I should go, too.”

Kuja leaned back as the waiter returned with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast and set it in front of him. “Maybe you should.”

 

He hadn’t planned on it, but Kuja ended up spending the entire day with Mateus. They ate breakfast and, after receiving an ‘all-clear’ from Ansem, returned to Mateus’s townhouse. Kuja spent much of the day curiously going through the piles of books somewhat haphazardly stacked on the shelves that had been hidden away in the locked room on the second floor. They sat side by side on the blue couch, reading and listening to the radio. They went out to dinner and got a bit tipsy before Mateus dismissed Ansem for the night and brought Kuja back to his place.

“I should have brought a change of clothes,” Kuja said. He was giggling helplessly while Mateus poured him a serving of brandy into a warmed glass. “I didn’t realize that ice skating was secret mobster code for keep me holed up at your house all day.”

“Yes, well, that’s why it’s a secret.” Mateus filled a second glass and picked it up. “A toast. To... secret codes.”

They touched glasses, Kuja giggling again before taking a sip of his booze. “You give good toasts, Mateus.”

“Why, thank you.”

They sat in silence and sipped their drinks. Kuja stared over the edge of his glass, his brain fuzzily doing calculations without his permission. He thought of all the times he had spent the night at Seymour’s place--just this past Friday night, in fact. He thought of the good times, of the good sex, of hours spent lazily lying in bed with the blue haired man. Kuja took another sip of his brandy, and a little voice in his head whispered, wondering if Kuja had really stopped loving Seymour, or if he was just bored. The same little voice carried on, wondering if Kuja had ever really loved Seymour at all, or if it had just been the rush of lust and good sex and passive affection that had made Kuja think it might be so. Was he in love with the man, or the lifestyle? He mentally waved the voice away. If he’d never loved Seymour, he wouldn’t have stayed with him for nearly a year, would he? But, then, in the dozens of Friday nights he had spent the night with Seymour, his lover had never once tried to get him to stay longer the next morning. After breakfast, Kuja was always sent on his way with a kiss and a promise to see him at the Zanarkand that night. Hell, this Saturday, Seymour had slept in, and Kuja had gone home without breakfast. 

Kuja thought: You were happy with Rude for two years, and he dumped you as soon as you discovered that it was fun to dress like a woman when out dancing. He had loved Rude, too, hadn’t he? And that had stung for a long time. It still stung a little. Part of him still missed Rude, still longed for him even though their lives had taken two very different paths that would likely never again intersect in a good or productive fashion.

He must have been mulling over his brandy for too long, because Mateus was staring at him.

“Is something wrong? Is the glass too warm?”

Kuja blinked. “No, oh. Um. Do you think I could take a bath?”

Mateus smiled. “Certainly, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.” Kuja’s head was starting to hurt, probably from a combination of too much booze and too much thinking. He left Mateus half-splayed out on the couch and went to the bathroom. Kuja put the stopper into place and started to fill the big tub with water. He stripped from his clothes--tie, vest, shirt, slacks, drawers, socks--all went into on the floor just outside the bathroom door. The water was steaming hot, and Kuja let out a little hiss as he slipped into the tub. He dunked his head into the water, kneading his fingers into his scalp and trying to work and will away the buzzing that was still resounding in his skull.

Eventually, when there was quiet, he settled in the tub, a towel under his neck as he rested his head against the ceramic. He stretched his legs out--the tub was long enough that his toes didn’t touch the other side. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Kuja had started to doze off when the shrill metallic sound of a telephone ringing disturbed his repose. Through the half-open bathroom door, he heard Mateus grunt as he got up from the couch. The phone was silenced on the third ring.

“Hello?” A pause. “Oh, Seymour, good evening. Just relaxing a bit before bed.” Kuja could hear the sound of nails tapping lightly on glass. “As a matter of fact, I did see him last night. He didn’t let you know he wasn’t coming in to work? Oh. He must’ve not had the chance to call you before I took him out.” Kuja sat up a bit in the tub, straining his ears but unable to hear the other end of the conversation. “Don’t be like that, old friend. I told you I would, if you wouldn’t.” He thought Mateus sounded amused. “I know. Talk to you later.” 

There was quiet again after the soft chime of the phone returning to its cradle. Kuja let some of the water drain from the tub and added more hot water. When he turned off the tap, he became aware of the fact that Mateus had moved and was now standing in the bathroom doorway. His dark eyes peered down through the opening, but as Kuja looked up at him, he could not fathom what the older man’s expression meant. That seemed to happen a lot--Mateus was quite good at masking his emotions when he’d had the chance to prepare.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Kuja was glad that his cheeks were likely already red from the heat of the bath. He swallowed and gestured at the tub. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He looked at the bathroom wall, and the delicate latticework of the wallpaper as Mateus stripped from his clothes and entered the bathroom. The water stirred as he entered, nearly rising to the lip of the tub. Mateus sat delicately, facing Kuja, giving him a moment to rearrange himself in the tub. Kuja tucked his feet to the right side of the older man. Mateus’s long legs stretched out between them as he rested his heels to the right of where Kuja had been resting his head.

“Big tub,” Kuja said.

“Had it special ordered.” Mateus closed his eyes. Kuja was briefly distracted by the way the ends of his long hair stirred and swirled like living things in the water.

“Was that Seymour on the phone?”

“You know it was.” He didn’t open his eyes. With them as such, his face relaxed and smoothed out from its usual concentrated squint.

“What did you mean, that you said you would if he didn’t?”

“I told him, some time ago, that if he did not man up and take care of you as you should be taken care of, then I would.”

“I’m not a woman,” Kuja said.

“You like to point that out.”

“I don’t need taking care of.” Kuja frowned. “Are you being nice to me just to fulfill some sort of obligation?”

“No, of course not.” Mateus cracked his eyes open. “You should know me well enough by now to know that I do not waste my time with such things.”

“Then, why?”

“You are obsessed with the why, Kuja,” Mateus said, again closing his eyes. “If two puzzle pieces from a thousand fall together on a table, fitting perfectly, then you do not ask why. You marvel at the chance of the thing and let it be.”

“I’m sorry,” Kuja said softly. “I don’t mean to be a trouble.”

“You aren’t a trouble, Kuja.”

“I feel like I am. Every man I’ve ever been with has treated me like this burden. Even when we were happy, I always have felt like I was being humored by being loved.” He sighed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you think too much.”

Kuja took this as a sign that he should shut his mouth, so he did. After a few minutes, something else came to his mind.

“The bootlegger.”

Mateus blinked. “What?”

“The bootlegger never treated me like a burden. He always treated me as though I were a joy to partake in.”

The elder man grunted. “Well, there you go. Can’t speak ill of the man, myself. That would be hypocritical.”

“Mm.” Kuja flexed his right leg. “I think he might have fancied me beyond just my assets, but...” He shook his head.

“Haven’t heard much of him lately. Just get his numbers from the deliveries.”

“He’s been fairly scarce since that whole business with Shinra,” Kuja said. “He’s been having someone else make his usual deliveries at the Zanarkand.”

“You miss him?”

Kuja shrugged. “It was nice to feel sincerely appreciated once in awhile.”

“Well, then, I will have to make an effort to make sure you feel more sincerely appreciated.”

He blushed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe I want to.” Mateus moved a hand underwater, brushing his fingertips lightly against Kuja’s left calf. Kuja shivered in the warm water. “You’re a jewel with an unusual shape to it, that passes from jeweler to jeweler, each as puzzled as the next over how to cut you to their liking. But, you don’t want to be cut. You just want to be beautiful and raw, and loved as you are.”

Kuja laughed softly. “Did you have more brandy before you came in here?”

“I might’ve.” Mateus smiled. His fingers continued to stroke at Kuja’s skin. “You shave your legs?”

“For when I go dancing. Does it bother you?”

“No. You’ve just got... stubble.” He laughed. Kuja muffled a laugh as well.

“Well, I didn’t go to the club yesterday, so I didn’t have reason to shave again, now did I?”

Mateus was still laughing. “Forgive me for making you stubbly.”

“I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” Kuja sat up and leaned forward in the tub, privately relishing in the look of surprise and very slight panic as he loomed over Mateus. He braced his hands on the edges of the tub as he moved his legs to straddle the older man’s muscular thighs.

“Kuja, I--”

“Shh.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to Mateus’s. For a moment there was no response, but then a bit of the stiffness left Mateus’s posture, and his lips parted invitingly as his hands moved to rest lightly on the outsides of Kuja’s thighs. Kuja slipped his hands from the ceramic and down into the water, right hand gripping Mateus’s shoulder for balance. The left hand feathered lightly over his collarbone and down the lines of his chest. A faint groan resonated in Mateus’s throat as Kuja’s fingers traced over his belly.

Mateus broke the kiss, pulling back enough to gasp out a question: “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what it feels like I’m doing,” Kuja said. He pressed another kiss to Mateus’s lips, his hand moving lower. Mateus made a soft noise in his throat as Kuja’s fingers traced curiously down over his cock, but did not pull away. Kuja murmured against his mouth: “You alright?”

“Yes, I just...” Mateus took a shaky breath as nimble fingers curled around him. “...never with a man before.”

“Don’t worry, Mateus,” Kuja said, his voice nearly a purr. “I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to touch me, just sit back and enjoy yourself.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.” He kissed Mateus again, briefly, as his hand began moving. The older man’s head rolled back against the edge of the tub, and Kuja dipped his head to kiss at his exposed throat. Mateus’s fingers squeezed at Kuja’s thighs as his length hardened under the attentions of the younger man’s hand. Kuja mouthed at his pulse, reveling in the way his breath caught as Kuja’s fingers teased and stroked at his cock.

“Kuja--”

It was over more quickly than Kuja could have anticipated. It took only a few minutes for Mateus to come, head thrown back and breath escaping in little panting puffs of air. It took nearly as long as it had taken Mateus to reach the top to come back down, the faint trembling in his body slackening as Kuja stroked at his bangs with the hand that had been gripping his shoulder. He blinked a few times as he rolled his chin to his chest. Mateus looked at Kuja, taking in the younger man’s amused expression.

“It’s not funny,” he said, his voice thick.

“I’m not laughing.” Kuja placed a kiss on the tip of Mateus’s nose. “You good?”

“Very good.” He swallowed. “You have nice hands.”

Kuja laughed and kissed him.

 

They lingered in the tub until the water had cooled. Mateus got out first, retrieving two fluffy blue bath towels. He gave one to Kuja, who quickly wrapped himself in the terry cloth to ward off the slight chill in the air. Kuja watched as Mateus leaned over the draining tub and wrung the water from his hair. Mateus looked down at the disappearing water.

“That was... that was good. Thank you, Kuja.”

The younger man tilted his head to the side. “Has it been awhile?”

“Yes. Well, I... haven’t actually been with anyone since before I met you.”

Kuja chuckled. “My, my, you must be very pent up.”

Mateus cleared his throat. “You could say that, yes. The touch of another is... always much more refreshing.” He looked down at Kuja, and reached to brush a damp lock of violet hair from his eyes. “Will you stay the night with me again?”

“On purpose this time, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I will. But, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I can’t stay all day.”

He nodded. “I understand. I just... I would like it if you stayed.” He smiled. “My bed is very comfortable.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He padded out of the bathroom and considered the pile of clothes on the floor. “Do you have something I could wear? I’d rather not sleep in my tie again.”

“Well, you’re a dainty little fellow--” Mateus laughed as Kuja swatted his arm. “But I think I can find something for you to wear. Any objection to flannel?”

“As long as it’s not plaid.”

“Hmm. I think I can manage not plaid.”

 

When Kuja woke on the morning of Christmas Eve, his eyes were again taken in by the gentle warm hues of dawn. He stared once more at the soft red and orange glow before the rest of his senses returned. He was in a very comfortable bed, with a heavy down comforter piled on top of him and keeping him comfortably warm. There was another source of heat just to his right and behind him, in the form of Mateus Palamecia. The older man was still asleep, an arm curled greedily around Kuja’s middle and his face half pressed against the curve of Kuja’s neck. An urge to pee had woken in Kuja’s body, but he was loath to leave the warmth of the bed and his companion.

The intimacy of the night before had not escalated past what had happened in the bath tub. Mateus had found a long dark blue flannel shirt for him to wear, and a pear of pajama pants that were too long for him and hung a bit loosely around the top. They had emptied the remainder of Mateus’s bottle of brandy, and then stumbled their way upstairs to the bedroom on the third floor. There they had flopped on the bed, lying in a tipsy tangle of limbs for some time, just leisurely kissing and stroking fingers over the outlines of each other’s bodies. Kuja had drifted off to the soft, pleasurable feeling of being pressed against another person.

Not that Mateus was soft, by any stretch of the word. Underneath his clothing, from what Kuja had seen in the bath tub and when they had dressed afterwards, Mateus was a man of careful lines and muscle. He had a slender waist and long, athletic legs that Kuja was starting to wish he didn’t have to always hide underneath proper slacks.

Just thinking of it was enough to cause a bit of a morning rise in him, and with a groan Kuja wiggled free from Mateus’s embrace and struggled out from under the weight of the comforter. The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare feet, and Kuja wondered where his socks had gone. He had put them back on after the bath, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember now. Kuja made his way down the stairs to the first floor as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Mateus up before he was ready. After relieving himself, he washed his hands and face in the sink and then stood and stared at himself in the silvered bathroom mirror.

He could scarcely recognize himself, even though it was the same face staring back that he looked at every day. His violet hair, though mussed, was the same. The fair lines of his face were the same, as were his lips and blue eyes. But, it looked out of place in the mirror. He shook his head slightly and rubbed his forehead. Kuja thought: It’s nearly New Year’s Eve. What then? How had so much happened to him in a year, but he had not changed at all?

Kuja washed his face again. The cold tap water stung at his skin.

It was here, some ten or more minutes later, that Mateus found him, leaning with his forehead pressed to the mirror and crying. At first Mateus didn’t say anything, he just gathered the younger man up in his arms and led him to the couch in the sitting room. He sat Kuja on the couch and then perched on the edge of the coffee table.

“What’s wrong, Kuja?”

Kuja had his face in his hands, and his words were slightly muffled. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here.”

Mateus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Being here, with you. I’m being unfaithful to Seymour, aren’t I?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

There was a miserable sniffle. “Because I’m his boyfriend, but I’ve spent the last day with you.”

Mateus’s brow wrinkled. “Did you enjoy the last day?”

Kuja hesitated to answer. “Yes.”

“Then, you aren’t doing anything wrong. If Seymour was really upset about it, he’d have been pounding on my door last night fifteen minutes after he called here.”

Kuja sniffed. “You think so?”

“I do. He doesn’t deserve you, Kuja.”

“Don’t say that, Mateus. He’s your friend. If you won’t stand up for him, who will?”

“He has to learn to stand up for himself.” He stroked his fingers along the top of Kuja’s head. “Stop crying, alright? I’ll make some coffee.”

When Mateus returned a few minutes later from the kitchen, Kuja was still on the couch, sitting with his knees tucked up and his left arm pressed between his thighs and his chest. He wiped at his nose with his right sleeve.

“You must think I’m a mess,” Kuja said. Mateus held out a mug of coffee.

“We’re all a mess in our own ways, Kuja.”

He took the mug. “Thank you.”

Mateus sat again on the coffee table, dark eyes watching the younger man closely. “I could call Seymour for you.”

“What? Oh, no, no. I don’t want to talk to Seymour.” Kuja took a gulp of the coffee and grimaced. “Oh, that’s hot.”

“I’m sorry.”

He stared down at his reflection in the black surface of the coffee. “It was New Year’s Eve last year, you know. The first time Seymour and I kissed. It was at the party at the Zanarkand.” He took a more careful sip of his coffee. “It seemed like a joke of a thing at the time, that kiss. We were both fairly tipsy, and it was midnight and you were supposed to kiss someone then. So he kissed me. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but a week and a half or so later, he kissed me again in the coat closet. Then he invited me back to his place for the night.” Kuja pursed his lips. “I suppose that’s the overall depth that our relationship has taken.”

“Would you have had him take it deeper?”

“I don’t know.” Kuja turned the mug in his hands and blew on the curling wisps of steam. “Maybe I would have? It’s always bothered me, how... he hides himself away from everything. He’s ashamed of how he is.”

“You aren’t?”

“Why should I be? I tried to be normal, but that was not something I was cut out for. So I decided that I would just stop worrying about it. Life’s too short to waste time on other people’s prejudices.”

“Very modern thinking.”

Kuja smiled thinly. “Isn’t it?” The smile faltered. “I just wish Seymour could share that thinking.”

“I’m sorry, Kuja.”

“It isn’t your fault. Is it?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so. He’d already closed himself off from women by the time we went to college.”

He looked at Mateus curiously. “Do you think he ever fancied you? I mean, you’re a handsome man.”

“Are you calling him shallow?”

“A bit. Men are.”

“Fair enough.” Mateus drummed his fingers on his knees. “I don’t know if he did or not, to be honest. If he did, he kept it from me.” He shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t think I’m his type.”

“I don’t see why men bother having a ‘type’. It’s so limiting.”

“Would you want to have sex with yourself?”

“Of course. I have a great ass.”

“I... can’t argue with that.” Mateus sighed. “Listen, Kuja. I’m sorry if spending the weekend with me made you feel guilty. I don’t regret spending the time with you, though. I... I really enjoyed myself, to be honest.”

“Are you just saying that because I was crying?”

“No, I’m not.”

Kuja licked his lower lip and shook his head slightly. “I appreciate the sentiment and everything, but... Why bother? How do you know you won’t end up like Seymour? I mean, being with a man could ruin your reputation, so why do anything?”

“You’re not just a man, Kuja. You’re intelligent and charming and a good dancer and very... enjoyable to look at.” Mateus smiled softly. “Why should I let anything detract from that, or deter me from enjoying your company?”

“I...” Kuja sputtered a bit and looked away. “Damn lawyers.”

Mateus stood and stooped to kiss Kuja’s hair. “Come on and get dressed, and I’ll take you to get some breakfast before I send you back home to your family for Christmas.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: There's smut in this. Oh yes, there's smut in this.

Chapter Twelve

“I swear to God, if it doesn’t stop snowing soon I’m going to... I don’t know, something drastic.”

Sephiroth watched Kuja pace in front of their bedroom window. “What could you do to snow that would count as drastic?”

He stopped, resting his hands on his hips. “I don’t know. Melt it, or something.”

“That sounds entirely reasonable.” Sephiroth tilted his head. “So, are you going to the Zanarkand tonight?”

“Of course I am! It’s New Year’s Eve, the biggest party of the year. Can’t miss it.” Kuja shimmied in place and held his hands out to his step-brother. “You should come along.”

Sephiroth shied away from the offering. “I can’t. I’m not ready for that, yet.”

“Alright. Keep at it. Maybe next year.”

“Zidane smuggled home some confiscated champagne, so at least we’ll have a little merriment here at home, too.”

“That’s the spirit.” Kuja took off his dressing gown and tossed it onto his bed. He retrieved a dress from the closet and slipped it on.

“Wow. That looks expensive, Kuja. How did you get a hold of a gown like that?”

Kuja looked over his shoulder and winked. “Christmas bonus from my boss.”

Sephiroth whistled. “That’s some bonus.”

Kuja wiggled his hips and adjusted the bottom of the skirt. “Well, he hasn’t seen it yet. Hopefully he’ll like it.”

“How could he not? Unless he’s blind or something.”

He thought of his perpetually squinting boss and laughed. “Maybe I should have gotten him some glasses for Christmas.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

Sephiroth watched as Kuja finished dressing. “Your legs are going to freeze off.”

“That’s what the stockings are for.”

“Why don’t you wear my coat instead? It’s longer.”

Kuja paused in touching up his make up. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“I don’t think I could send you half dressed into the snow and not feel guilty about it.”

“Thank you, Seph!” Kuja blew him a kiss as he grabbed Sephiroth’s coat and headed for the door. “Alright, dear. See you next year!”

 

Mateus had to admit that he had never been a fan of big parties. There was too much chaos, too much out of his control, and too much that could go wrong. New Year’s Eve was no exception to this rule. Mateus preferred to spend the evening with whomever he was currently with, or, at a lesser preference, at whatever big party his brother was throwing. But, this year Belias and their mother and his family had gone to Florida for the new year and left Mateus behind in the cold and the snow. Mateus, for once, did not entirely mind. He would go to the Zanarkand instead. He found himself actually looking forward to the event. Mateus wanted to see Kuja again.

By the time he arrived at the Zanarkand at just past ten in the evening, the club was already packed with a drunken frenzy of people. Some of the party had spilled out into the streets, and he had to weave around tipsy couples that were dancing and necking and close to doing other things that would never be tolerated in public on any other night of the year. He shed his coat and hat at the coat check, and smoothed the front of his tuxedo as he moved into the crush of people. A woman wearing a bright blue dress nearly careened into him. She shoved a glass of champagne into his hands before continuing on her way. Mateus shrugged and took a sip as he looked around. The tables at the edge of the dance floor were all full of people, as was the bar at the far end of the hall. He started to feel a little uneasy as the tide of the crowd slowly pushed him toward the dance floor.

“Mateus! So good to see you made it, old friend!” Seymour’s voice boomed off to his left, and Mateus did his best not to sag visibly with relief of a distraction. Seymour came over, looking crisp in a black tuxedo and shiny dark blue bow tie. His cheeks were a bit pink, and he knocked back the remainder of his drink before setting it on a passing tray and maneuvering over to Mateus.

“Splendid party, Seymour,” Mateus said. Seymour grabbed his arm and half leaned on him.

“Isn’t it, though? I love new year’s. Best time for a party, if you ask me.” He took Mateus’s glass and emptied it of his contents. “It’s all just fucking fabulous, isn’t it?”

Mateus chuckled. “When did you start partying?”

“At dinner!” Seymour grinned. “Had a nice dinner with the employees upstairs, cracked open a few bottles... Kuja wasn’t there, though. I reckon he was at home with his family?”

“Most likely.”

Seymour stopped a passing waiter to grab a fresh glass. “The first time me and Kuja ever kissed was on New Year’s Eve last year. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” Mateus said. “Will you be making a repeat performance of that this year?”

“If I can...” Seymour’s blue eyes scanned the dance floor. “I dunno where he is, though. He was here earlier. Pretty as a...” He sipped from his fresh glass. “I called him on Saturday, before I went to Mass. Apologized to him, y’know?”

“What for?” Mateus was looking out at the dance floor as well. There were several women in pink dresses waving around big feathered fans and wiggling in a very indecent manner.

“For not... you know...” His brow wrinkled in drunken thought. “For being a bad boyfriend, you know? I can’t help it, I just wish he’d understand...”

“I’m sure he wishes the same of you.”

“Maybe.”

“Did he forgive you?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t really say anything. Just said he would see me tonight.”

“Well, he does still work for you, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yes. Works for you, too.” Seymour took a gulp from his glass. “What is it, Mateus, you ran out of women to fuck and bury in the city, so now you’re going after my boyfriend?”

Mateus flinched inwardly at the drunken bite to his friend’s words. “Something like that, it would seem.”

“I can’t even compete with that,” Seymour said. “I mean, you’re the underboss of a big family and all. I’m just some poor nobody.”

“You’re hardly poor.” Mateus glanced at him. “Tell me what you want me to do, old friend. If you want me to step away from Kuja, I’ll consider it, with respect for our friendship.”

For a long while Seymour was silent, staring out into the crowd. Then: “No.” He sighed and emptied his glass. “This is my fault, my doing, isn’t it? Maybe I wanted this to happen.” His head drooped. “I delivered Kuja right into your hands, didn’t I?”

“You did. And I’m grateful for that. He’s a surprisingly good secretary.”

Seymour poked at Mateus’s arm with the empty glass. “I just want you to remember this one thing. When you’re fucking him, and enjoying it--and you will, I know you will--I just want you to remember that I was there first.” He gave Mateus another poke with the lip of the glass.

“You think that some potential enjoyment of Kuja’s company will be diminished by the knowledge that you’ve already had him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re very drunk, Seymour. And the night’s still young.”

The proprietor of the Zanarkand considered this, turning the neck of the empty glass in his fingers. “You’re right. Of course you are. Hell, this isn’t even my drink.” He patted Mateus on the shoulder with his free hand. “I’m going to go see if there’s any coffee left in the office. You want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. See you in a bit.” 

Mateus watched his friend wander off into the crowd. He was unsure as to what exactly had just transpired. He shrugged and accepted another glass of booze as it was offered to him on a shiny silvered tray. The light reflecting from the tray seemed to bounce out onto the dance floor, because as a new song began a shimmer of silver caught his eye. He turned to look at the dance floor, and saw his secretary.

Kuja was garbed in a silver clothed dress that looked to be encrusted with clear crystals that caught every light in the club. On his head he wore a silver tiara embellished with small white pearls and more of the crystals. His dance shoes were silvery and shiny, and he wore sheer silvery hose that caught the light with his every step. He was a beautiful spectacle. Kuja shimmered and sparkled like a silver star, and Mateus helplessly stared at him, spellbound. He stood as though paralyzed for the entire duration of the song, watching the dizzyingly coordinated waving of Kuja’s arms and legs.

When the song ended, Kuja twirled in place for a moment. As he came to a stop, his blue eyes met Mateus’s, and his face lit up. He rushed over to Mateus, arms outstretched, and grabbed at Mateus’s free hand.

“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you were going to stay home after all.”

“Oh, no, I’m just not good at a party...” Mateus’s eyes drifted down. “You look beautiful, Kuja.”

“You think so?” The younger man beamed, more brilliant than his gown. “I wanted to look nice for tonight.”

“Well, you look very nice.”

Kuja gave his hand a little tug. “Will you dance with me?”

“I-I don’t do so well with dancing, Kuja, I’ve told you that.”

He pouted. “You have to dance with me at least once before midnight.”

“Alright.”

Kuja beamed anew and looked around. “Have you see Seymour?”

“Just a few minutes ago. He was completely plastered.”

“Well, he’s a festive drunk,” Kuja said with a giggle. He squeezed at Mateus’s hand. “Did you talk to him? I don’t want you two to stop being friends, Mateus. I don’t want to come between you two.”

“I know you don’t,” Mateus said.

“Well?”

“I think we’ll be alright. What about you two?”

Kuja’s smoky eyelids drooped. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure... I don’t know if there is still an ‘us two’.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can be friends eventually.”

“Why not now?”

“Because...” Kuja brought Mateus’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles gently. “Right now is time for different things.” He smiled. “Like dancing.”

“I don’t know how to Charleston or anything,” Mateus said in protest. “Maybe if they play a slow song. You know, something you can waltz to.”

“Well, I don’t know about a waltz, but they usually play something slow just before midnight.”

“I’ll dance with you then.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Kuja.”

His smile brightened, and he rose up on his toes to kiss Mateus’s cheek. “Good. I’m going to hold you to that, so don’t you forget it.” He let go of the other man’s hand.

“What are you going to do in the mean time?”

“I am going to go dance with strangers, while you watch and wish you weren’t afraid to dance in public.”

Mateus chuckled. “Just dance with your back to me, and I’ll be fine.”

Kuja winked at him. “I can do that.”

 

About an hour later, as the new year crept closer, Seymour stood at the far end of the hall next to the bar. It was as crowded as ever with people who were determined to get at least one more drink in before 1923 ended. Seymour leaned on the end of the bar, the euphoric, ridiculous drunken buzz from not long before having faded into a general, pleasantly blurry feeling. One of the bartenders was lingering nearby as he filled drink requests.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Seymour blinked and looked at the bartender. “Hm?”

“Another drink?”

“No, thank you, Faolan. I’m going teetotaler until next year.”

The bartender chuckled. “If you say so, sir.”

Seymour waved a hand and looked toward the dance floor. The lively jazz music had begun to slow into something more seductive, and the club’s patrons were pairing off. He pulled out his pocket watch and opened it, looking at the time. Only a few minutes left until midnight. He sighed softly, wondering what the next year would bring him. Perhaps better fortune than this year had.

A twinkle of silver on the dance floor caught his eye. It was Kuja, looking possibly more breathtaking than he could recall seeing the man before. He was dancing with Mateus, and the two stepped and turned slowly on the floor, somehow isolated despite the press of dancers around them. Seymour could not deny the pang of jealousy he felt as he watched the two dance. Kuja’s expression was far off and dreamy, but Mateus’s gaze was focused intently on his dance partner. Some little part of Seymour’s mind told him that he should go over to the pair and separate them, and dance with Kuja himself. But, he knew this was not meant to be.

“Maybe it’s better this way,” he said to himself.

However, he could not bear to watch them, and turned his face back to the bar. The bartender was looking at him again.

“Sir, if you don’t have anyone at midnight, I’ll give you a kiss,” the bartender said, his tone teasing. Seymour looked at the man. He had black hair and was always fairly easy on the eyes. Seymour pushed away from the counter.

“Grab a bottle of gin and meet me at my office, and we’ll see about that.”

The bartender winked at him. “Yes, sir!”

 

Out on the dance floor, Kuja felt a bit like he was floating. Perhaps that was all the booze he’d downed between dances, or perhaps it was because he was slow dancing in Mateus’s embrace. He liked to think it was the latter. Despite his repeated protests, Mateus’s dancing skills were passable. He hadn’t stepped on Kuja’s toes yet, at the least. Kuja didn’t recognize the music playing, though he thought it might be a slower version of a more usually upbeat standard. Kuja looked up at Mateus, and was pleased to find that his gaze was focused solely on him. It gave him a strange feeling, like he was a big celebrity on the silver screen, and Mateus was the world paying to stare at him.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

Mateus smiled. “If I keep my focus, then I forget how embarrassed I am.”

“Don’t worry, everyone’s probably looking at my shiny behind, they wouldn’t notice if you miss-stepped a few times.”

“Have I?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Kuja smiled. He was going to say something else, but the music from the band declined and was replaced by the booming voice of the band leader.

“Alright, everybody, midnight is nearly upon us! Get ready to say goodbye to 1923!”

There was a roar of drunken cheering that quickly quieted down again. Kuja looked to Mateus again, and was surprised that the other man was still staring at him. He did not appear to notice as the crowd began counting down around them. Mateus was already leaning in toward him as the year came to an end.

“...three!... two!... one! Happy new year!”

There was a tremendous noise of cheering and noisemakers that to Kuja seemed to shake the building around them. He was only briefly aware of the din, though, because as the countdown reached one, Mateus leaned in and nothing else in the world mattered.

When Kuja surfaced from the kiss, the band had erupted into a boisterous rendition of ‘Auld Land Syne’, and people around them had begun dancing again. Mateus took Kuja’s hands and tugged him from the dance floor. Kuja followed, though he was feeling quite giddy and would have liked to continue dancing until dawn. 

“What are you doing, Mateus? Where are we going, it’s still early!”

He looked back at Kuja and smiled. “Good, then I still have plenty of time.”

“Time for what?”

The older man just smiled at Kuja as he nearly dragged him from the club. 

 

“Mateus, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

The underboss of the Palamecia family was humming bits of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, slightly off tune, as he drove them to his town house. It was lightly snowing again, covering the remains of the old year in a fresh layer of powder.

“It’s a new year,” Mateus said, his tone cheerful though his expression was focused on driving. “I intend to start it off right. Don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t see why we had to leave the club so early. Was it something that Seymour said?”

“Seymour? No, no, not at all. Why would think that?”

“For obvious reasons, Mateus.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sure Seymour has already drowned his sorrows enough for me not to be concerned about it.”

Kuja sighed and rubbed his arms through his coat. “I just would have maybe liked to keep dancing for a while longer.”

“You’d have been there until the band went home,” Mateus said. He smiled. Kuja chuckled.

“Yes, but that’s the point. Why get dressed up so fancy if people are only going to get to see it for a few hours?”

“I’m sure you’ll be in the papers tomorrow.”

“Oh, pish.” Kuja waved a hand at him. “You’re just saying that to get into my drawers.”

“It is working?”

He blushed. “It might be.”

Mateus parked outside his town house, and they went inside. It was warm, and after peeling out of their coats, Mateus led the way upstairs. Kuja watched his backside as they made their way up the stairs. He tried not to laugh as Mateus removed his bow tie and tossed it over his shoulder.

“You know, I would have thought our first time would have been more... spontaneous,” he said. They reached the third floor landing.

“Yes, well, consider yourself special, I suppose.” Mateus winked. “I usually don’t take my secretaries home.”

“Does that make me better than the other secretaries, or worse?”

“Better. Far, far better.”

Undressing was an unceremonious event--both had seen each other nude already, although Kuja did not mind getting to see more of Mateus’s body. The hair on his chest and arms was fine and blond, but darkened as it went down to his groin and legs. Mateus was already half aroused, a state which quickly advanced as his dark eyes swept over Kuja’s body. He sat on the edge of his big bed and reached out for Kuja, pulling him closer and running his fingertips over the younger man’s chest and down to his middle.

“I’m not sure I should remind you that I’ve never been intimate with a man before,” he murmured. Kuja shook his head.

“If you’re not sure that you want to do this, I understand.”

“Oh, I do.” Mateus looked up at him. “I just, um...”

Kuja laughed softly. “Don’t know where to start?”

Mateus nodded.

“Well, first, we’re going to need some lubricant. So you don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t hurt you, Kuja.”

“You will without lube. Now...” He hummed and glanced around the room. “Something like an oil or petroleum jelly or something like that.”

A wrinkle appeared between Mateus’s brows. “I don’t really cook, so I don’t have oil. But, there should be some jelly in the bathroom medicine cabinet.”

“Alright. I’ll go get it. You just wait here like a good boy.”

Mateus made a face at him as he pulled away and headed to the stairs. Kuja made a point of wagging his hips at the other man as he departed. He hurried downstairs to the bathroom, found the specified nearly new jar of petroleum jelly in the cabinet, and then hurried back upstairs to where it was warmer. Mateus was still seated, waiting, his cock in his right hand and a few strands of long pale hair twined around the fingers of his left hand. His expression was simultaneously awkward and aroused. Mateus’s gaze had drifted to the curtained window, until Kuja cleared his throat. Mateus swallowed and murmured to himself.

“Going to need some of that at the office.”

Kuja laughed. He set the jar down on Mateus’s nightstand, then climbed onto the bed. “Do you need help with that?”

“Oh, no, I think I have a firm grip on things--” Mateus’s gasp caught in his throat as Kuja leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips as his hand covered Mateus’s. “Kuja!”

“Don’t turn into a blushing virgin on me now, Mat.”

The older man’s eyes flicked to the night stand. “So, the jelly?”

“Ah, yes. You see, a man doesn’t have the same things going on below as a woman does. Have you ever tried anal sex before?”

Mateus’s cheeks turned pink. “No, it never occurred to me.”

“Well, that’s how we gay boys have to do it. The jelly makes it all work better--lubes the parts up like an automobile.”

He swallowed. “I see. That... seems straightforward enough.”

Kuja grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you’ll be a quick learner.”

He opened the jar and daubed a pit of the cool jelly onto his fingers, and then rolled onto his belly to show Mateus how it was done. The older man watched, utterly focused, his hand slowly stroking his cock to hardness. Kuja had to admit that the attention was more than he was used to, and it turned him on more than prepping himself usually did. He was groaning softly into the covers, only dimly aware of Mateus moving behind him. Mateus took a bit of the jelly and rubbed into onto his cock, attention still focused on the three fingers Kuja was using to ready himself for his new lover.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

Kuja shook his head. He withdrew his fingers and shifted his weight so that he was on his hands and knees. Kuja looked over his shoulder, relishing the way Mateus was staring at him. He shook his hips lightly.

“I’m ready to give this a try when you are.”

Mateus swallowed and nodded. The bed creaked softly as he moved to kneel behind Kuja. His hands moved to the younger man’s bottom, fingers testing, learning the softness of the flesh there. Kuja waited, patient, in no real rush now that they had gotten this far. He held a faint moan in his throat as one of Mateus’s fingers pushed curiously into his asshole. The finger was removed, and in short order replaced by the head of Mateus’s cock. Kuja held his lower lip between his teeth, trying not to squirm in anticipation. Mateus seemed to hesitate, merely rubbing the head at Kuja’s entrance but not pushing in. Kuja rocked back slightly, causing Mateus gasp as his cock pressed at the tight ring of flesh. Kuja waited, and was rewarded for his patience when Mateus finally gripped his hips and pushed into him.

Mateus murmured wonderingly at the tightness, but did not stop. Kuja pressed his face into the covers and moaned in pleasure as Mateus slowly worked his way deeper. The older man grunted as he bottomed out, his hips pressing against Kuja’s. Mateus held still, treating Kuja to the feeling of his big cock throbbing inside of him. Kuja rocked back again, grinding their hips together.

“Good, good,” Kuja said, voice muffled by the covers. Mateus shifted his weight, pulling all the way out. After a moment, Kuja felt the head push in again with almost maddening slowness. Then it was withdrawn, and pushed in again. This repeated several times, until Mateus had apparently satisfied whatever curiosity he had found and pushed in to the hilt once more. When he began to thrust, it was a practiced motion that lacked the hesitation of a few minutes before. He had clearly gotten over the difference in gender, and Kuja moaned as Mateus’s cock pumped into him.

“Ah, ah! Oh, fuck, Mat!” Kuja’s fingers dug into the covers, and he jerked his hips back to meet his lover’s vigorous thrusts. The bed squeaked beneath them, and Mateus’s motions made the headboard tap against the wall. Mateus leaned down and kissed a path down Kuja’s back.

“So good,” he murmured against Kuja’s back. “So nice and tight.” Kuja made a noise of agreement. He moved a hand down to his own cock, stroking at it as Mateus pushed in and ground against him.

They rocked together for several minutes more, before Mateus came inside Kuja. The younger man moaned as he was filled, his asshole squeezing and milking the seed from Mateus’s cock. He stroked himself until he came. The pair collapsed on the bed in a spent tangle, panting for breath. Mateus pulled out, settling next to Kuja on the bed. He pulled the covers up over them, and then turned out the lamp on the night stand. They lay in the darkness, pressing lazy kisses to each other’s lips, until sleep finally overtook them.

 

The room was gray with early morning light when Kuja woke from a deep, peaceful slumber. He was immediately aware of Mateus lying behind him, and of the hot length of flesh that was rubbing between his ass cheeks. He wasn’t sure at first that Mateus was awake, but then the older man’s hand moved to slide down his belly and squeeze at his cock. Kuja let out a pleased groan. He shifted a leg forward, exposing his entrance, and reached between them to grasp at Mateus’s cock. He guided the head to his opening, and with a grunt Mateus jerked his hips forward. Kuja moaned as Mateus’s cock slid into him.

“Oh, good morning to you too,” he said, breath gasping out in pleasure. Mateus just gave a vaguely half-awake grunt and rocked his hips the rest of the way forward. He thrust leisurely, lazily, for several minutes. Kuja hummed with pleasure, thinking that he wouldn’t mind waking up like this more often. 

In time, as the morning light shifted from gray to pink, Mateus woke up more and began to thrust in earnest. Kuja rocked his hips back to meet each thrust, a little pleased noise escaping as he did. Hidden under the warm covers, their bodies moved together until Mateus finally came with a grunt. Kuja moaned softly, stroking himself out to his own orgasm.

Afterwards, as they lay in the quiet of the morning, catching their breath, Mateus pulled Kuja back to his chest. Kuja settled against his warm skin, and dozed off back to sleep.

When Kuja woke again, the morning sun was streaming coldly through the curtains, and Mateus was no longer in bed. Kuja rubbed at his lower back before rolling into a seated position. He pushed aside a slightly disgruntled feeling at being left alone in bed, and looked around the room. His clothes, so quickly discarded the night before--well, much earlier that morning--had been layered carefully over a chair that sat by the window. Kuja got out of bed, hissing at the cold floorboards, and went to retrieve his clothes. He pulled on his drawers and the dressing gown that had been left on top of his flapper dress. 

Downstairs, Kuja was met by the smell of breakfast. He located Mateus in the kitchen, setting out plates at the little table.

“I thought you didn’t cook.”

Mateus startled and looked at Kuja. He smiled sheepishly. “I went to the diner and picked something up for breakfast.”

“How good of you.” Kuja pulled his face down for a quick kiss. “Thank you, Mateus.” He sat at one of the chairs, wincing a bit at a jolt of discomfort that went up his backside.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” Kuja waved away his concern and picked up a mug of coffee that was set down in front of him. “It just takes a little time to recuperate from interacting with a nice, big dick.”

Mateus looked sheepish again. “I liked it.”

Kuja chuckled. “Did you really?”

“Well, yes.”

“I could have guess that much last night. Or this morning.”

Mateus’s cheeks darkened. “I mean, I... I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t mind sitting on your lap again right now.”

“Kuja!”

He winked. “Maybe after breakfast.”

 

Kuja finally went home on Wednesday afternoon. Mateus had insisted upon it, stating that they both needed a good night’s sleep because they had to work in the morning. He dressed nicely, and arrived at work a bit early. He got there before Mateus did, and sat and got to work on reading the newspaper in quiet. Twenty minutes after Mateus’s usual arrival time, the door to Kuja’s office creaked open. For a moment he did not look up. This was what Kuja had been worried about--the dreaded ‘morning after’ at work. It had taken Seymour two weeks to be able to look him in the eye after the first time they had sex, and that was even with them being intimate in the interim. He enjoyed his work here as much as he had enjoyed sex with his boss, and he worried that perhaps something would be different.

He looked up when Mateus cleared his throat. The older man looked the same as ever--immaculately dressed and squinting slightly. He nodded at Kuja, and then made his way over to the window. Kuja turned his focus back to the morning newspaper and his note taking.

After a few minutes, he squirmed in his seat. He was trying to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. He would glance over to where Mateus stood at his usual post at the window, and his mind would go back to new year’s at Mateus’s apartment. He couldn’t help but think of being taken by Mateus--on his bed, in the tub, on the couch--and the newspaper was quickly forgotten.

“Sir?”

“Hm?” Mateus half turned to look over at him. Kuja swallowed.

“About the other night, at your place...”

A smirk played on Mateus’s face. “Yes, what of it?”

“Are we still good?”

Mateus stared at him for a moment. “Of course we are.”

“Okay. Because I’m having a hard time concentrating on my work with you in the room.”

The smirk lingered. “Is that so?”

Kuja blushed. “I know it’s not professional, sir, and I know we’re at work, but I can’t help it.”

“Would you prefer if I went back to my office for a bit?”

He swallowed again. “I... I guess so?”

“We have to be decent at work, Kuja.”

“I know we do, I’m sorry. I just...” He bit his lip. “Do we really have to? I mean, you’re the boss here.”

Mateus tilted his head to the side. “That’s true.” He gestured at the desk. “I left a present for you in the top left drawer.”

Kuja opened the drawer and found a fresh jar of petroleum jelly inside. He blushed anew. “Sir.”

“Please, Kuja. When we’re having sex, I’d rather you called me by my name.”

“Are we having sex, sir?”

“We’re about to, yes,” Mateus said, his tone playful. He went to the door and locked it, and then turned again to Kuja. The younger man could plainly see the bulge in Mateus’s slacks. He hurriedly put the newspaper and his calendar away, clearing the desk of everything except the jar of jelly.

They removed their pants and drawers. Mateus leaned against the edge of the desk as Kuja knelt in front of him and took his cock into his mouth. Mateus murmured encouragingly as his secretary-turned-lover sucked him to hardness. Then he had Kuja climb up onto the desk. He opened the jar of jelly and offered it to Kuja, and then watched, dark eyes hungry, as the younger man prepped himself. When Kuja was ready, he grabbed the younger man’s hips and moved him to the edge of the desk.

“Oh, Mateus!” Kuja moaned loudly as Mateus pushed into him. He hooked his heels up along Mateus’s shoulders as the older man began to thrust in an even rhythm. It felt divine, and Kuja was content to lose himself for a few minutes in being filled.

Mateus leaned over him and gave him a kiss. “I want you to come to my place tonight.”

“Okay!”

Another kiss. “I want you to come to my place every night.” He snapped his hips forward, burying himself in Kuja. The younger man moaned again. “I want to fuck you every night before I sleep, and again in the morning when I wake.” He grunted, grinding against him. “And then again here at the office. And maybe at lunch.”

Kuja laughed breathily. “You’re awfully pent up, Mateus!”

“Are you complaining?”

“No-not at all!” His back arched as Mateus continued thrusting. “M-may need a cushion for my seat here, though!”

“I can arrange that.”

“And a change of clothes at your town house...”

Mateus kissed him again, lips lingering together. “I’ll have a wardrobe filled for you.”

“Oh, Mat...”

 

Out in the hallway, Ansem stood ever-diligent guard. His face remained expressionless, even at the orgasmic sounds that filtered through the door of Kuja’s office. A few minutes passed in quiet, and then one of Belias’s goons came up the stairs looking for Mateus.

“I’m afraid that Mr. Palamecia is occupied in a meeting this morning,” Ansem said, his voice a perfect deadpan. “You’ll have to check on him again after lunch.”

The goon went on his way, and Ansem was left alone again in the hall. A few more minutes passed, and then he heard the sound of the secretary blissfully calling out their employer’s name.  
Ansem allowed himself a brief smirk, but then continued his duties.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: Just a bit. (Just the tip?)

Chapter Thirteen  
January, 1924

“I must say, brother, but I am rather disappointed in you.”

Mateus swallowed and looked up from his plate. “You are? Why now?”

The man sitting across the table from him delicately picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. He was not an altogether unattractive man, but he paled in comparison when pitted against his younger brother. Whereas Mateus had inherited their mother’s dark violet eyes, blond hair, gentle features, and graceful poise, the man seated across from him had their late father’s dark looks and generally menacing appearance. Mateus had long suspected that his older brother resented him for being the more refined of the two, though he wouldn’t dare say that to his face. He liked keeping his nose unbroken as much as possible.

“I mean, just look at you, Matty. You’re a disappointment to the family.”

He blanched. “In what way, brother?” Being a disappointment to Belias was practically a death sentence.

Belias Palamecia took a sip of his wine. He looked over his shoulder, where two bodyguards were waiting near the entrance to the little restaurant they were eating lunch in. Mateus knew Ansem was waiting outside in the cold--he’d rather be out there freezing his dick off than stuck inside with Belias’s men. Ansem couldn’t stand the bodyguards that Belias hired, and had complained about the matter in one of the few times he ever said anything out of turn.

“Where’s your lapcat, anyway? Ain’t he usually darkening every doorstep behind you?”

“He doesn’t care for the thugs that you hire to protect you, Bel.”

Belias snorted. “That’s rich, coming from a psychopathic murderer.”

“Now, now, you know he was released after the mistrial.”

“Yeah, right.” Belias took another sip of his wine. “Don’t get me wrong, Matty. You do us good with the legal help, and pushing pieces around like we need it. But I’m talking about the family.” He pointed to a thick gold band on his left ring finger. “You’re nearly, what, thirty-three now?”

Mateus glanced down at his own hands, bare expect for his signet ring. “Next week, on the twenty-first.”

“Little baby Matty, all grown up.” Belias pointed a thick finger at him. “You need to start acting like you’re grown up. Stop disappearing your secretaries, for starters. Fine a nice lady, get married, have a few brats.”

“Oh.” Mateus muffled his response with his own glass. “That family.” He didn’t bother asking what would happen if he decided he didn’t want to get married. That had never been his inclination before, and up until now he’d managed to dodge the question from his parents and brother. What was so wrong with just wanting to be with someone? He knew well enough as a lawyer that marriage was nothing but trouble.

“Yeah, that family. That’s what comes first. You know that.”

“I do.” Mateus looked at his watch. “I can’t sit here all afternoon having you berating me, I’m afraid. I have to meet with a client regarding whether or not your fish guy from the docks is ever going to see the light of day again.”

“Of course he will. You’re working on his case.”

Mateus sighed and leaned on his elbow. “I am, yes.”

“Listen, Matty, your birthday’s next Monday, right? Yeah. You come by the house on Sunday night, we’ll all have a big dinner for your birthday, just like when we were little. Alright?” He slapped a hand on the table, and Mateus jerked upright from his slouch. “And bring a girlfriend or something. Make an effort, Matty.”

Mateus pinched at the top of his nose. “Yeah, sure, no problem, Bel.”

“Attaboy.”

 

On that Friday afternoon, Kuja was seated across Mateus’s lap at his desk, reading over some court notes related to a case Mateus was currently working on. He wasn’t quite sure how he had ended up seated like this--he was in Mateus’s office, after all, not the usual place for such forwardness--but he wasn’t entirely inclined to complain about it. Mateus was idly stroking his fingers down the black cloth of Kuja’s right sleeve.

“Are you listening, sir?”

“Hm? Yes, of course. Irvine Kinneas is a good natured idiot who wouldn’t hurt anyone without reason. Correct?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But, he’s a military trained sniper known amongst his men for having killed a dozen Germans with one of their own rifles while hiding behind a dead horse.”

“Yes, sir, but that was during the war.”

“You don’t think he’d pull the trigger again?”

Kuja looked at the notes piled in his lap. “Anything is possible, I suppose.”

Mateus continued petting his arm. “What would make you doubt it?”

“Uh...” Kuja hadn’t realized there was going to be a test. “I don’t know. Perhaps the way the victim was killed?”

“Very good, you have been reading my notes.” Mateus nipped lightly at Kuja’s ear, making his secretary blush. “But, yes. Even though he had the motive--jilted ex-boyfriend--and no real alibi... The victim was stabbed eight times in the stomach.”

“Crimes of passion don’t really lead to going out and finding a sniper rifle,” Kuja said.

“Perhaps not.” Mateus drummed his fingers.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Whether or not I do doesn’t really matter. My job is to convince others that he is innocent.” Mateus used his idling hand to take a paper from Kuja’s lap and hold it up. “It could have been Kinneas. It could have been the victim’s new little witch of a wife doing him in for the insurance policy and framing the ex for the deed.”

Kuja wrinkled his nose. “What a depressing set of circumstances.”

“That’s the world, my dear.” Mateus set the paper on his desk. “I’m only even taking this case because my brother insisted upon it. The pay isn’t worth the drama.”

Kuja chuckled. “I thought the drama was half of the fun.”

“Oh, it is, trust me. But, such a hassle at the same time. The headlines will sell some papers, though.” Mateus kissed at his ear, and then gave his arm a pat. “Alright, up you get. My legs are falling asleep.”

The secretary got up and collected his paperwork. “I’ll put this back all in the Kinneas file, then. Was there anything else that you needed before your meeting?”

Mateus rubbed at his thighs and looked at Kuja. “Are you going to the Zanarkand tonight?”

“Assuming I still have a job there, yes.” Kuja smiled. “Sorry, I’m still no good for outings on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“What about Sunday?”

“Hm? What about it?”

Mateus pursed his lips for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but I need a bit of a favor. Either as my secretary or my lovely new inamorato, take your pick.”

Kuja smirked. “What sort of favor?”

“I’m at the behest of my brother to be at home Sunday night for dinner, for my birthday. He, well, he wants me to bring my girlfriend with me.”

He narrowed his eyes at Mateus. “I’m not dressing in drag for you.”

“No, no, I’m not asking you to. I just need someone to accompany me to the dinner. That’s all.”

Kuja sighed and tapped his paperwork on the desk. “I’m not sure how you could possibly repay such a kindness.”

“Neither am I.”

 

On Sunday evening, Mateus picked Kuja up at his home and drove him through the snow-daubed streets of Alexandria. Kuja fidgeted with the buttons on his coat as Mateus drove.

“Anything I should know?”

Mateus made a thoughtful noise, drumming his gloved fingers on the steering wheel. “The less you talk while we’re there, the better.”

Kuja frowned. “You don’t want me to talk?”

“It’s not that. I love listening to you talk.” He winked. “You have a lovely, low, unintentionally sensuous voice. I could listen to you read the newspaper all morning.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Why, not at all!” Mateus chuckled, and then sighed. “What I mean, is, my family will probably pick on you because you’re there. It’s not your fault. They’re just that kind of people.”

“Then, why put up with them tonight?”

“Because, they’re family. And that’s the most important thing I have.”

Kuja picked at a button again. 

“Just be your usual charming self, but don’t let them bait you. And, trust me, my sister-in-law will try. The only interesting thing she has left in her life in being cruel to lesser people.”

“You’re really going to owe me for this, Mateus.”

“I know.” He looked over at Kuja and smiled. “You’re better people than her, alright? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“So reassuring.”

Mateus drove into the old, rich part of Alexandria. The taller buildings fell away here, replaced by old estates with sprawling, snow covered lawns. Mateus drove through a pair of gates and up a cobbled drive, and parked his car underneath the port cochere at the front of a massive mansion that looked, to Kuja, like it had been there since the end of the Civil War. Maybe longer. It had an old, very well-to-do look to it that made Kuja instantly inferior and out of place. He swallowed, mentally fluffing up his pride as much as he could. Still, he could not help but feel small and unimportant as he followed Mateus to the front door. His boss did not knock on the door. He instead pushed it open with the impatience of a child coming home after school.

“I’m here!” Mateus called. “You’d better not have done anything dreadfully embarassing, Mother.”

A thin, female voice with a decidedly cheerful tone to it called from inside the house. “Don’t be silly, Matty. It’s not like I put streamers up or anything.”

“Follow me,” Mateus said, his voice lower and directed at Kuja. The younger man followed the older inside, feeling apprehensive as the heavy door closed behind him. Inside it was warm, and Kuja could appreciate at least that much. They entered a large foyer that opened immediately to a broad set of stairs that led to the second floor. There were doors leading from the left and right sides of the foyer, one open and the other closed. Mateus went through the open door, pausing to shrug out of his heavy coat and waiting for Kuja to do the same. After hanging their coats up in a small closet, they went down a short hallway that opened into a large dining room. There was a long table with a dark green cloth draped over it, and ten chairs. An older woman sat at the head of the table. Kuja knew, as he trailed behind Mateus, that this woman was most definitely his employer’s mother. It was difficult for him to put into exact words, but she looked like a sixty year old female version of Mateus. Her graying blonde hair was pulled back into a neat bun, her eyes were much the same shade of violet, and her face as a whole had the same refined cast as Mateus’s did. A pair of delicate glasses were perched on her nose. Kuja did his best to hide a smile as he stopped a respectable distance away. Mateus went to the end of the table and stooped to press a kiss to the cheek of the woman.

“Mother, where is Bel? He’s the one who said I had to come.”

“Probably in the den listening to the end of the races on the radio. Dawn is bringing the children in for supper. Why don’t you and your friend make yourselves comfortable?” Mrs. Palamecia looked over the rim of her glasses at Kuja. “I thought Belias said you were bringing a girlfriend?”

“He knows I haven’t had a girlfriend in years.”

The woman clucked her tongue, but there was nothing harsh in the way she looked at Kuja. “So, who is this handsome fellow?”

“This is my secretary, Kuja Tribal.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” 

She nodded at him, and then looked at Mateus. “A male secretary, Matty? What, did you run out of women to run off?”

Mateus sighed. “I need a drink.”

“I had a few things brought up from the cellar. Take your pick.” She looked at Kuja again, curiosity evident on her features. Kuja offered her a nervous smile. “So, tell me, Matty, how did you come to have a male secretary?”

“He’s a friend of Seymour’s,” Mateus said as he poured himself something from a dark red bottle. “I mentioned needing help to Seymour. Kuja was in need of work and sent him to me. I gave him a chance.”

“That was very nice of you, Matty.”

“Yes, I know.” He glanced over at Kuja and smiled. “Have a seat, Kuja. Relax. Dinner will be soon.”

Kuja sat in one of the chairs that Mateus indicated. He felt horribly self conscious--probably the last time he had felt it this badly was the first time he had worn a dress out in public to go to the Zanarkand. And that had been more exhilarating than anything. Right now, as the dark green tablecloth bunched over his thighs, he would have gladly crawled under the table and had dinner there.

There was the sound of a door opening elsewhere in the house, and a woman shouting, followed by the shrieking laughter of children. Kuja swallowed and looked at the table.

“Princess, make sure they wash their hands before supper.” A man entered the dining room, smoking a cigarette and carrying a pencil and notepad. He was a bit shorter than Mateus, and while having a generally similar look to him, had darker hair and a more swarthy appearance. Despite this, he was just as well dressed as Kuja had ever seen Mateus, if not a bit more expensively in the fabrics area. The man tucked the pencil behind his right ear. “There’s my little Matty. Glad you could make it.” The man glanced at Kuja, but then looked back at Mateus.

“Do good with your races, Bel?”

“Of course I did. Jecht never lets me down.” The man set the notepad on the table and looked at Kuja again. “This your girlfriend?”

“No, Belias, this is my secretary.”

“Thought she was a bit mannish in the jawline.” He squinted at Kuja, a look the younger man recognized quite well from Mateus. Kuja tried not to cringe under the scrutiny, as his brain caught up with the fact that this was probably one of the most powerful men in the city staring at him.

“Belias, this is Kuja Tribal. Kuja, this is my older brother, Belias.”

“Good to meet you, sir.”

“Tribal, eh?” Belias removed the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a plume of smoke in Kuja’s direction. “Got a brother on the force, dontcha?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“One of those clean nosed little fucks,” Belias said.

“Belias, your language at the table,” Mrs. Palamecia said from where she was seated.

“I ain’t sitting yet.”

“What does that mean?” Kuja looked at Mateus.

“Means he isn’t on Bel’s payroll. Or Shinra’s more than likely.”

“He’s on my list, though,” Belias said. He ambled down the length of the table and sat at the other end. Mateus rounded the table and sat next to Kuja. He briefly rested a hand on Kuja’s knee under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Kuja hoped, for his own sake, that he didn’t blush at the gesture.

“My brother has always been a good kid, mostly,” Kuja said.

“Is that so? Well, I suppose it takes all types to make the world go ‘round.” Belias chuckled. “Not much use for good in this world, though.”

“Perhaps not.”

The older man grinned as four children, all looking to be under the age of ten years, came charging into the dining room. They sat along the four chairs on the opposite side of the table from Mateus and Kuja, and all seemed to be trying to talk to Belias at the same time.

“And we saw a fox! And I threw a snowball at it! I threw a rock at it. Don’t listen to him, he missed and hit the fence! I did not!”

The children--three boys and a little girl--were followed into the dining room by a woman. She was dressed fashionably, her cheeks pink from the cold outside and her dark blonde hair modestly upswept. The woman had brown eyes fixed in a cold, somewhat haughty expression. She was attractive in a careful, well-bred sort of way. 

The woman looked at Kuja for a long moment, and the young man could almost feel her analyzing him and his worthiness of sitting at the table. Then she looked at Mateus, and her nose wrinkled briefly.

“Still up to no good, I see, Matty.” The woman moved around the table and sat with a flounce in the seat between Mateus and Belias. Mateus elbowed Kuja, who got the point and scooted to the remaining empty seat. Mrs. Palamecia smiled briefly and patted Kuja’s elbow while Mateus moved over into the seat Kuja had vacated.

“Kuja, this is Dawn, my brother’s wife. Dawn, this is Kuja, my secretary.”

The woman leaned a bit. “Is that so?” Belias’s wife gave Kuja a skeptical look. “How long have you been doing that?”

“Um, just a bit over six months now, actually.”

“Wow, six months. That must be a new record for you, Matty.”

“Shut up, Dawn.”

“Matty, don’t tell my wife to shut up.”

“Then maybe you should,” Mateus said coolly.

“Boys, please do refrain from bickering at the table.”

Even though the food and drink was of exceptional quality, dinner itself was no more pleasant an affair than the preceding minutes had been. As though on some psychically transmitted message from their mother, the children began to interrogate Kuja. He was only saved from further torment by their grandmother, who reminded them that it was impolite to talk with their mouths full. Belias spent most of the meal drinking and making disparaging comments at Mateus’s expense, while Dawn added in the occasional snide remark.

After the meal, and after a lovely birthday cake that was had for dessert, Belias led his brother off for a post-meal smoke and chat. Kuja was again subjected to further questioning by the children, until their grandmother led them off to go clean up before bed. Dawn remained at the table, sipping a glass of wine and just staring at Kuja’s left hand.

Eventually, though not soon enough, Kuja was rescued by Mateus. His boss had a pinched expression as he returned from having a cigarette with Belias. Mateus was quick to excuse them from the house, thanking his brother for dinner and promising to have lunch again with him sometime soon. 

The sun had already set by that time, and the big old house seemed just as ominous now to Kuja as it had a few hours before. They walked under the port cochere to Mateus’s car.

“He just doesn’t understand,” Mateus was muttering to himself as he lit a cigarette. “He’s never worked a day in his life, what does he know about anything?”

“Mateus? Why does your family treat you like that?”

“Like what?” Mateus snapped at him. When he saw Kuja flinch away, his tone immediately softened. “I’m sorry, Kuja, I really am.”

“I’m not mad at you, Mateus.” The younger man’s weary and hassled expression said otherwise, and Mateus stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm.

“Really, Kuja--”

“Mateus, I’m not mad.” Kuja smiled, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I just don’t like having to put up with other people’s family. Mine’s problem enough on its own.”

“I know...” He squeezed his arm. “Let’s go see a movie.”

“A movie? It’s too late for that Mat. The theater closes early on Sundays.”

“I own the Cyclone. I can have them run something for me.”

Kuja smiled again, gentle and more sincere now. He patted the hand that was gripping his arm, and leaned up to kiss Mateus. “It’s okay. We can go see a movie tomorrow, for your birthday.”

Mateus licked his lips. “What should we do instead?”

“I don’t know.” Kuja looked around. “Snowball fight?”

Mateus blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been itching to wallop something for the last two hours. Your handsome face with a snowball, and I’ll forget about the rest of the night.”

He gave a wry smile. “You probably couldn’t even hit me with one.”

“Please, give me a little credit. I grew up with five brothers.”

 

The snowball fight went well enough, though Mateus had to admit that he had not expected Kuja’s aim or arm to be as good as they turned out to be. Later, as they sat together on the blue couch, wrapped together in an old knitted blanket, Mateus’s nose still stung from a few too many snowballs to the face. But, he supposed, it was all in good spirit. Kuja’s mood had ebbed back to normal afterwards, and he was quiet now as they sipped brandy. Bright moonlight, thick and white as falling snow, spilled through the curtains of the sitting room windows.

Kuja sipped from his glass. “Your face alright?”

“I think it will be, yes.”

Kuja tipped his glass back and forth a few times, and Mateus’s eyes tracked the sloshing movement of the liquid within. Kuja sucked a bit of air between his teeth. “Mateus, what did you and your brother talk about after dinner?”

He considered his answer. “Just business things.”

“You looked awfully discontent when you came back for it to be just the usual business things.”

“It’s not really your business to be nosy about it,” Mateus said. Kuja gave a little grunt.

“I’m your secretary. You can’t spell that without ‘secret’.”

“You’re still keeping my dirty little secrets secret, aren’t you?” 

“Of course. Not for Zidane’s lack of trying to pry, mind you. It’s sort of fun to torment him with the fact that I have knowledge he isn’t privy to.”

Mateus snorted. “I’m starting to rub off on you.”

“In more ways than one.”

They both chuckled at this. Mateus sighed. “Bel is concerned about the movements of the Shinra by the water. Rufus Shinra has been buying out some of our informants in the area. Bel is worried that Shinra is up to something bigger that we haven’t caught wind of yet.”

“Do you think so?”

“It’s entirely possible. Alexandria is a very big prize, financially, and Shinra’s been trying to gnaw off an increasingly larger chunk of it for the last few years.” Mateus emptied his glass and then held it up, watching the moonlight through the curved surface. “Do you still talk to that Shinra goon?”

“You mean Rude Grossier? Now and then. He’s been kind of keeping to himself ever since his partner got hurt.”

“Is he still working for Shinra?”

“Of course. Got to put food on the table, and he’s good at what he does.” Kuja gestured with his glass. “Good with his fists, y’know?”

“Hmm. Well, would you be horribly adverse to seeing him sometime and perhaps... trying to suss out any information that might be relevant to my business interests?”

Kuja was quiet for a moment. Then: “I can, yeah. I don’t know what he’ll tell me. He’s never been a big talker.”

“All the same. I would appreciate it.”

“Of course. Yes.” Kuja looked at his watch. “Happy birthday, Mateus.”

He blinked, and then smiled. “Thank you, Kuja.”

 

Mateus awoke on the morning of his birthday to the feeling of a warm, wet mouth giving excessive amounts of attention to his cock. It was a fairly agreeable way to start his birthday. He peeled back the covers to expose the culprit, and smiled as the morning light caught the mischievous look in Kuja’s eyes. He closed his eyes and rested against the headboard, enjoying the younger man’s technique. Kuja was certainly both skilled at blow jobs, as well as very enthusiastic about them--much more than any woman he had been with had ever been. They had always turned their nose up at the task, as though there were something wrong with his dick.

No such arguments from Kuja. If anything, Mateus got the impression that if he were to try and stop the man from sucking his cock, he’d probably get a finger bitten. Better to just let his secretary perform his art.

After Mateus came, and Kuja somewhat daintily licked him clean, Kuja brought him his house coat. Mateus wouldn’t have minded going past just the blow job, but there was always time for more later. Kuja was already dressed for work in some of the clothes that Mateus had bought for him.

“I need to wake up and have it be my birthday more often,” Mateus said as he followed Kuja down the stairs. Kuja laughed. Mateus felt warm inside.

Downstairs, he found that there was breakfast already spread out on the little kitchen table.

“I went to the diner and got your favorites,” Kuja said. He was practically wiggling with excitement.

“Well, aren’t you a clever thing?” Mateus sat at his usual chair and picked up the mug of coffee that sat hot and waiting for him. 

“I might have to learn how to cook breakfast, if you aren’t going to,” Kuja said, his tone teasing as he took the other seat. Mateus watched him, a faint smile on his face as he buttered a piece of toast. “So, any big plans for today?”

“Not really,” Mateus said. “Work as usual. I thought perhaps we might go somewhere for dinner tonight. But, nothing planned because it’s my birthday.”

“What a pity,” Kuja said. He sipped from the glass of orange juice in front of him. “Your birthday is the one day of the year you’re allowed to be selfish and write it off as a personal holiday.”

Mateus smirked. “I’m selfish every day without feeling the need to excuse it.”

“Funny.”

“Did you have something in mind?”

Kuja shrugged. “Not in particular. It’s too bad that your birthday’s in the winter, or you could use it as an excuse to go on a holiday to some place warm and full of tourists.”

He stuffed a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “I don’t like to travel that much.”

“Really? Why not?”

Mateus shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s just stressful.”

“Then, you’ve never traveled with the right people.”

“Have you ever traveled by yourself?”

“No, but the summer before the war, Sephiroth and Zidane and I made a trip out to the seashore in New York. It was fun. We went to the beach and went to New York City for a few days...” His eyes lit up. “We went to Broadway and saw the Ziegfield Follies and a few other shows. Zidane and I enjoyed that, but I think Sephiroth thought it a bit of a bore.”

Mateus smiled. “Well, perhaps during the summer we can take a trip. It’s too cold for that sort of thing right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I’d love that, Mateus.”

“Well, good. Something to look forward to, then.”

Kuja smiled back at him, and then looked at the wall clock. “Crap, it’s almost time for me to be at the office.”

“It’s alright, you can be a few minutes late. It’s my birthday, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “If you say so, boss.”

 

A few days later, in the dwindling hours of Thursday afternoon, Kuja made his way to the dingier part of Alexandria, just outside the Treno slums. Kuja hated going to this part of town. It always seemed darker here, and its run down buildings had the appearance of sagging under their own occupied misery. He went to one of the apartment buildings and let himself in the front door with an old key for a lock that had never been changed in twenty years, and then went up the creaking stairs to the third floor. The building was noisy inside, and Kuja passed doors that barely held back the sounds of women moaning lewdly and radios blaring and dogs barking and men shouting at each other. He knocked on the last door of the hallway. After a few minutes, his ex-boyfriend answered. Rude blinked down at him in surprise, and for a moment a smile appeared on his face. It faded far too quickly for Kuja’s liking.

“Hey, Kuj. Haven’t seen you in awhile.” He held the door open and let Kuja enter.

“I just though I would stop by and see how you and Reno were doing.” Kuja looked around the apartment. It hadn’t changed much. Kuja had always hated Rude’s apartment. Even though the man did his best to keep it clean, it was still old and dark and run down.

“Sure you did. You thirsty?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Kuja ignored the way the floorboards creaked under his light steps and made his way through the living room. “How’s Reno?”

“Did you really come here to talk about him?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Kuja frowned. He stood at the door to the bedroom and looked inside. The bed was neatly made, though there was a dent in the covers where someone had been sitting. Near the room’s lone window was a wooden chair and its wooden occupant. Reno was facing the window, but his expression was blank and he did not seem to be actually looking out the window. It was a pity, Kuja, thought. That window was the only redeeming part of Rude’s apartment, since it had a decent view of the river. But Reno was not watching. He wasn’t really there anymore.

Rude stood behind Kuja. He knew that Rude was looking at Reno, and not at him.

“Is he any better?”

“No,” Rude said. Kuja said nothing. He had found, over the months that had followed Reno being found nearly beaten to death on the steps of the Midgar Club, that he had a hard time completely sympathizing with what had happened to Reno. The red haired man had been unconscious in the hospital for weeks before waking up, but when he did, the doctors said it was as though someone had broken his head open to steal his spirit. The right side of Reno’s face was still scarred, and his hair had not regrown in a few patches.

“I’m sorry,” Kuja said.

“No, you’re not.” Rude turned and went back to the kitchen. Kuja followed him. He watched Rude open the small ice box and take out a bottle of soda. “So, word at the office is that you’re fucking the Emperor.”

Kuja swallowed, choosing to look at a paper calendar that was still displaying November 1923 instead of looking at Rude. “Shinra really does have eyes all over the city, doesn’t he?”

“Most places. Definitely has people keeping an eye on that cozy little townhouse that the Emperor’s staying in. You’ve been coming and going there a lot since New Year’s.”

“Yeah, maybe I have.” Kuja crossed his arms. “What of it?”

“I told you, Kuj, I didn’t want you getting involved in all of this. And now you’re not just involved, you’re letting it stick its dick in your ass.”

“You jealous?”

Rude took a gulp of his soda pop and was silent.

“You are. I know.” Kuja moved a bit closer to Rude. “You were always the jealous sort when we were together. You broke the nose of every guy who looked at me for too long.”

Rude sighed. “That’s all in the past.” He looked at Kuja. “Why are you here, really?”

“Really? Because my employer thinks that I can wiggle my hips at you and get you to divulge some deep, dark Shinra secrets that he can use to his advantage.”

“Ever to the point.” Rude set the bottle down on the kitchen table. “You know I can’t tell you anything sensitive. I’d lose my job, and probably my head. I’ve got to worry about Reno’s well being, not just my own.”

“Then, what can you tell me that isn’t sensitive information?”

He shrugged. “Nothing really useful. Nothing that the public doesn’t already know. Rufus is working on taking over Alexandria. Buying up all the little properties, snagging them out from under the Palamecias’ noses.”

“What about the docks?”

“Easiest way into town. You control the docks, you control the flow goods into the city. Get control of the docks, and the bootleggers will be brought under his heel. Simple stuff.”

Kuja tapped a fingertip to his lower lip. “I suppose that will have to be enough information for him for now.”

For a moment Rude was quiet, looking in the direction of his bedroom. “Kuja, why the Emperor? Why with Mateus Palamecia? Why get mixed up with him when you could have just come back to me?”

A bubble of anger rose like bile in Kuja’s throat, and he swallowed it back. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s been bothering you for more than two years, hasn’t it? I mean, it was a long time before I got into bed with Seymour--and you threatened him, too, don’t forget--so why didn’t I come crawling back to you? Why didn’t I come groveling at your door, begging please, oh Rude, I’ll stop dancing in a dress, I swear, please just take me back.”

Rude’s jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything. Kuja leaned toward him.

“Do you remember that little blond bootlegger that Reno was sent to kill? I’m sure you do. Kefka Palazzo, librarian gone wrong. Well, you know what, Rude?” Kuja leaned in closer, knowing that he was being cruel but unable to stop himself. “The first time I was working at the club and he was making a delivery, he picked me out of all the pretty faces in the crowd, and took me downstairs, and had his way with me. Said I was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in Alexandria. And after the first few times he stopped being rough and started being really sweet to me, you know that? Every week he’d come to the club and fuck my brains out with his big dick, and I liked it. So no, I never came crawling back to you, Rude, because I didn’t need to. I was _satisfied_.”

A snort of breath escaped through Rude’s nose. “Kuja, why--”

“Because. You hurt me, Rude. We had a good thing going for two years and as soon as I did something that made you uncomfortable, you dumped me like you’d found out I was sleeping with every man in Alexandria. You treated me like some worthless whore, Rude, and so I ended up acting a bit like one.”

He dodged out of the way of Rude’s right hand, but the left still caught his arm and hauled him close. Kuja winced at the tightness of Rude’s grip. Even through the thickness of his coat he could feel Rude’s fingers clenching, and he was quite sure that if he moved the wrong way that Rude might break his arm.

Rude spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t say that, Kuja. It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that, Rude, and you know it.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was, and now you’re regretting it because your new boyfriend is a catatonic--” Kuja let out a hiss of pain as Rude gave him a shake. “Let my arm go, Rude!”

Rude leaned in closer, his voice practically a growl. “Get out of here, and don’t come back. And you can tell that prick that’s fucking you that when Rufus Shinra sends his dogs after him, I’ll make sure I’m one of them.”

“You jealous, petty--”

“Out.” Rude shoved Kuja away from him, and the younger man let out a little yelp of pain as his back hit the door frame. “Get out!!”

Kuja hurried out of the apartment without looking back, and tried to ignore the sound of Rude’s fist hitting the wall. 

 

That evening Mateus and Kuja soaked in the bathtub. Mateus sat behind Kuja and scrubbed at his back with a sponge. Under the water, Kuja was idly stroking at Mateus’s left calf.

“You need a hair cut,” Mateus said, tickling at Kuja’s neck with the sponge. The younger man laughed.

“You’re really one to talk.”

“I’d look horrible with short hair.”

“Or hair that looked like you hadn’t just rolled out of bed.”

Mateus chuckled and shook his head. “You could grow your hair out. You have nice hair. But then people would likely confuse you for a woman even more.”

“I’ll get it cut, don’t worry.”

He continued scrubbing at Kuja, and then frowned. “What happened to your arm?”

“Hm?”

“There.” He pointed at Kuja’s right forearm, where a set of small round dark marks were visible. “You’ve got bruises. Who did this to you?” Mateus delicately lifted Kuja’s right hand to move his arm closer into view.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I told you that I went and spoke with Rude this afternoon. He just grabbed my arm, that’s all.”

Mateus frowned. “Rather hard, from the looks of it.”

“He was angry. I baited him into it.”

“Why did you do that? He could have killed you.”

“He needed to hear the truth.” Kuja gently pulled his arm away. “And he wouldn’t have hurt me, not really. He’s probably still sitting in his kitchen, berating himself for throwing me out. He was always like that.”

“He hurt you when you were together?”

“Not exactly. He’s the big, quiet type, you know? But, like a volcano. Sometimes he’d just boil over. I think maybe it was something from the war. He always apologized when he would lose his temper at me. He felt bad about it.”

“I don’t see how you could excuse such... abusive behavior.”

“Because my step-brother was just as bad when he came back. Worse, really.” Kuja’s head bowed. “So I understand, a little.”

Mateus grunted. “I could have him killed.”

Kuja half turned to look back at him. “Mateus, you don’t have to go killing everyone. It makes you no better than him.”

He scrunched his lips in a bit of a pout. “I’m much better than him.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need protecting that much.”

“Of course you do. You’re sitting in my bathtub--you need all the protection in the world.”

Kuja leaned and gave him a kiss. “Turn around so I can scrub you down, and then we can see about you protecting my ass upstairs, alright?”

Mateus smirked. “Fair enough.”


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen  
April, 1924

Kuja sat at his desk, idly making his way through the morning newspaper. It was a Friday morning in mid-April, and a light rain was falling on the city of Alexandria. Mateus stood at the window, as usual, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the gray and green scenery below.

“I was thinking maybe steak tonight.”

“Hm?” Kuja looked up from the newspaper and glanced at Mateus’s back. His employer was wiggling his fingertips.

“Steak. For dinner. We could go to that place on Ninth Street.”

“Oh. That would be nice. The steak was good last time.” Kuja returned his gaze to the paper. “I’ll call to make reservations when they open.”

“Good.”

There was a pause, and amongst the soft rush of the rain, they heard a quick series of small sneezes from out in the hallway. Kuja’s lips contorted into a smirk as he tried not to laugh. Outside, Mateus’s ever-constant bodyguard was blowing his nose.

“Oh, don’t laugh. He can’t help that he has allergies.”

Kuja was muffling a giggle. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t help it. He sounds like a kitten sneezing.”

“Don’t let him hear you saying that. He might wring your neck.”

Kuja glanced to the door. “Is he really that dangerous?”

“He’s extremely dangerous, yes.”

“Then, why have him as your bodyguard?”

Mateus shrugged. “Because, he’s extremely dangerous.”

“I’m not sure I follow your logic, but, alright.”

He left the window and came over to Kuja’s desk. “Don’t worry-” Mateus leaned down to nip at Kuja’s ear. “You’re safe as long as I’m around.”

Kuja tilted his head up for a proper kiss. “Don’t forget, you’ve a meeting at the Cyclone in forty minutes.”

Mateus chuckled. “We can get a lot done in forty minutes.”

His secretary shook his head and laughed. “Oh, no, last time you said that you were half an hour late to your meeting and your brother was fit to break your nose afterwards.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” Mateus sighed softly and returned to the window. “Perhaps after lunch. What time am I due at the courthouse?”

“Three-thirty.” Kuja looked at Mateus’s calendar. “And, you have lunch with Seymour scheduled today.”

“Ah, yes, Seymour. That’s right.” Mateus looked away from the window. “Did you want to accompany me?”

Kuja blushed and shook his head. “No, sir, I think that might be a little too embarrassing for me.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Awkward, at least.”

“I see. Well, I suppose you can handle getting lunch for yourself.” He glanced at the door following a series of little sneezes. “Or perhaps you can have Ansem go fetch you something.”

Kuja smiled. “Maybe I’ll just go home for lunch. I think my mother might like that.”

Mateus chuckled. “You can do that, too.”

 

Kuja was left alone to his usual devices: finishing his morning paperwork and starting the morning crossword puzzle. About half an hour after Mateus had departed from his office, Kuja became dimly aware of someone standing out in the hallway. He looked to the door, which was still cracked open a few inches, and saw the silhouette of a man out in the hallway.

“Yes, what is it?” Kuja called, feeling slightly apprehensive.

A young man--perhaps a year or two older than Kuja himself--pushed the door open and stepped into the doorway. He was a tall, lanky fellow with copper-brown hair and big blue eyes. The man was plainly dressed in a pair of brown slacks and a plain white shirt. He was holding his hat in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” the young man said. His voice had a country twang to it that Kuja hadn’t heard in some time. “But, is this Mr. Palamecia’s office?”

“His office is down the hall, but he’s gone to a meeting right now,” Kuja said. “I’m his secretary. Can I help you with something?”

The man stared at him for a moment. He swallowed. “I just wanted to thank Mr. Palamecia for his help in getting me off the hook.”

Off the hook? “Ah, you must be Irvine Kinneas.”

He blushed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you when you were working.”

“It’s alright. Did you want to set up a meeting with Mr. Palamecia? He has some free time before lunch today.”

“I...uh... is it alright if I just wait out in the hallway?”

“If you want to. Or you can sit and wait. He’ll probably only be gone another half hour or so.” Kuja pointed at the chair next to the doorway.

“Right, sure. Thank you.” Irvine sat, hat still in his hands.

Kuja went back to working on his crossword puzzle, but after a few minutes he looked up and over at the door. The man was still sitting, but was staring at him.

“Something wrong?”

Irvine blinked a few times. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s all.”

Kuja smiled thinly. “Sorry, I’m taken.”

He sighed. “All the good ones are.”

Twenty or so minutes later, Kuja heard the sound of little delicate sneezes come up the stairs. He managed not to sigh with relief as Mateus passed the door with Ansem in tow.

“I’m in my office until lunch,” Mateus called on his way by. “If you need me.”

Irvine jumped to his feet. Kuja cleared his throat and called back. “Mr. Palamecia? You’ve someone waiting to see you, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Send them in.”

Irvine looked at Kuja, a nervous smile on his face. “Thank you very much.”

“Just don’t piss him off. I hear his bodyguard eats people’s hearts.”

The young man gave a nervous laugh and headed out the door.

 

That evening, after having a lovely dinner with Mateus, Kuja returned home to get ready for his other job. It was strange, Kuja thought as he sidestepped puddles on the sidewalk, that dancing at the Zanarkand had become a secondary thing to him. A year or two before, he could have imagined nothing else. Now, he looked forward to going to work on the weekdays, to seeing Mateus, to going out to dinner with him, to getting invited back to his place... He was still trying to keep his emotions, his attachments in check as much as he could. Sure, he enjoyed being with Mateus, but he wasn’t quite sure how much of his employer’s attraction to him was based just on sexual need and nothing more. They had only been seeing each other in a more intimate sense for three months, after all, and who was to say that Kuja still wouldn’t end up like the other secretaries? He tried to push the negative thoughts aside as he opened the front door to his house. Friday and Saturday nights were still for dancing, after all. Even if the nights no longer ended with him in bed with Seymour, he still went and danced and had a good time. Sometimes Mateus would show up at the club, and would take him home afterwards. Those were good nights.

Inside the Tribal-Jenova household it was warm and smelled faintly of roasted chicken. He could hear the radio playing in the sitting room. The program was discussing the beginning of the baseball season, so it was most likely his step-father listening to the radio. Kuja called his greetings down the hall and went to his room. Sephiroth was lounging on the bed, dressed in gray woolen slacks and a white shirt. He had a book in hand, and did not look up from it as Kuja entered the room. Kuja cleared his throat. 

“So, how was work?”

Sephiroth looked up from his book and smiled. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Well, yeah.”

Kuja smiled. “I’m really proud of you, know you.”

“You’ve told me that nearly every day since I went back to work.”

“Well, I am.”

“It’s nothing special. It’s just something normal human beings do every day.”

“You haven’t been a normal human being in years, Sephiroth.”

“Touche.” Sephiroth looked to his book. “It’s not too busy right now at work. Mr. Valentine lets me take breaks when I need to.”

“Does it feel good? Not being stuck in here all day?”

“I guess so.” Sephiroth gave his broad shoulders a shrug. “There are still times when I’d rather be back here in bed.”

“One day at a time, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Sephiroth was quiet again. Kuja unbuttoned his vest and removed it. “You’re not still seeing that Seymour guy, are you.” 

It was an abrupt statement, but he hadn’t said it as a question. Kuja swallowed--he hadn’t really told anyone about breaking off his relationship with Seymour. It was a lot easier for him to let his mother think Kuja was seeing some ‘religious hypocrite’ than the Emperor of Alexandria.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re happier lately,” Sephiroth said. “At least, from what I’ve seen. Since the new year or so. When you come home on Saturday afternoons you don’t have that dejected look on your face any more.”

Kuja stuck out his tongue. “I didn’t look dejected.”

“You looked like someone had showed you a kitten and then taken it away.”

“You’re really one to talk.”

Sephiroth shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I saw, is all.” He waited while Kuja removed his tie and unbuttoned his pale blue dress shirt. “Are you?”

“No,” Kuja said after a moment. “I’m seeing someone else.”

“Nice guy?”

“To the people he likes, yes.”

“Well, as long as he’s being nice to you...” Sephiroth closed his book after marking a page. Kuja chuckled.

“He’s very nice to me, Seph. Don’t worry about it.”

“Consider it me returning the favor.”

Kuja sighed and shook his head as he finished undressing and pulled on his robe. “What do you think, Seph, blue or green?”

“Green is better for spring.”

“Yes, but I wore the green last week.”

“Then why ask?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Most people there were probably too drunk to remember what color I was wearing.”

“The people that matter will remember.”

Kuja scratched at his chin. “You’re right. I’ll wear the blue.”

There was a light knock on the bedroom door. “You decent?” It was Zidane. Kuja laughed.

“When am I ever decent?”

“There’s a fair question. You mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

He sighed and rebelted his dressing gown. “Does it have to be right now, I’m getting ready to go to the Zanarkand.”

Zidane’s voice was firm. “Yes, actually.”

“Fine, fine.” Kuja opened the door. “What? Make it quick.”

The younger man licked his lips as he looked over Kuja’s shoulder at Sephiroth. “Maybe not right here.”

Kuja stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Knowing his step-brother, Sephiroth probably would have an ear to the door within a few seconds. He lowered his voice.

“What is it? Shouldn’t you be out with a girl or something?”

“They were all busy.” Zidane shook his head. “No, this is important. I really think you should skip the Zanarkand tonight.”

Kuja frowned. “Why would I do that? It’s Friday night--I have to work.”

“You want to. You don’t have to, and I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

“Zidane--”

“Kuja, listen.” Zidane leaned in and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “I can’t say anything specific, but I really think you should stay home tonight.”

It took a long moment of staring in confusion at his younger brother for the words and their meaning to sink in. Zidane, the cop, didn’t want him to go to the Zanarkand tonight. He gave a bodily jerk, and hissed in pain as his elbow struck the door. “I have to call--”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Zidane said. “You have to just let it happen. I’m not even supposed to be warning you, but you’re my brother and I’ve got to look out for my family at least a little.”

“Zidane, you don’t understand--”

“Kuja, I do. I’m sorry.” Zidane touched his shoulder, and then frowned as the phone rang downstairs in the kitchen. He cast a look down the hall when the ringing stopped. Their mother’s voice called out from the foot of the stairs.

“Kuja! There’s someone on the phone for you. Don’t tie up the line too long, dearie!”

The brothers exchanged a look. Zidane moved his hand away.

“To be fair, he might already know.”

Kuja nodded and went to the kitchen. He took the telephone from his mother with a nod, and waited until she made her way back to the sitting room before he spoke.

“Hello, this is Kuja.”

“Good evening, Kuja.” It was Mateus. Kuja smiled at the sound of his voice, but knew well enough from having worked with the man for more than eight months that he was trying to hide something in his voice.

“Hey.” Kuja glanced toward the sitting room. “Calling on me so soon? We just saw each other an hour ago.”

“I know, but after you left, I got to thinking. I’d like if you didn’t go to the club tonight, and came and spent the night with me, instead. We could go to the Cyclone, watch a movie, go back to my place, do things without clothing on...”

Kuja laughed softly. “Well, that sounds like an enjoyable list of things to do with you.” He considered his brother’s warning. “Alright. I’ll be over in a little while.”

“I will pick you up.”

He smiled. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

 

As Kuja, freshly redressed, stood outside in the twilight, he wondered why Mateus had insisted on coming to pick him up. It was a bit of a long walk, yes, but it was a trip that he had made dozens of times over the last few months. He supposed it was because walking from here to Mateus’s town house usually took him in the vicinity of the Zanarkand, and if something was going on there, then Mateus didn’t want to chance him stumbling into a mess. He was a bit touched by the sentiment, but also a bit annoyed that everyone seemed to think he needed looking after. He wasn’t some air-headed woman, he could handle himself. Or, at least, that’s what he liked to think was true. 

Honestly, Kuja didn’t think he really wanted to spend any time in jail.

He was concerned about Seymour, though. He had asked the man about this sort of thing before, but Seymour had always laughed it off and said that he could handle it. Still, Kuja had a hard time imagining his elegant ex-boyfriend enjoying any amount of time behind bars. Zidane had often told him that the Alexandria Jailhouse was not the most pleasant of places to spend the night. 

He kissed Mateus hello when the car arrived, and did his best not to notice that the route they took back to Mateus’s place was not the one he usually took. Mateus skirted through another part of town, past the great cathedral on Castle Street, and nowhere near the Zanarkand. Mateus was quiet as he drove, but when Kuja looked at him, the younger man had no trouble seeing through the thin veneer of calmness on the other man’s face. Mateus had become complacent around him, Kuja thought, and become quite lazy when it came to blanking his expression around him. That carefully composed mask of the powerful had started to slip around Kuja, and it warmed the younger man’s heart a bit to think that, even if it was unintentional, Mateus had started to trust him enough to be himself around him.

They sat on the blue couch and shared a bottle of beer. Mateus was still quiet, his jaw working as though he were chewing at some cud made of irritating thoughts. He cleared his throat when the bottle was empty. Kuja looked up at him, waiting. 

“Kuja, I’m going to grant you a kindness and be honest with you.” He set the bottle down on the coffee table, fingertips lingering on the lip of the bottle before letting it go. “You deserve that much.”

“Honest about what?”

“Why you’re here right now and not at the Zanarkand.”

Kuja wondered if Mateus could sense that he was being deliberately obtuse. “I’m here because you asked me to be, Mat.”

“Well, yes, but...” He got up and went back into the kitchen, and returned with another beer from the ice box. “Kuja, I asked you not to go to work tonight because there’s going to be a raid on the Zanarkand. I didn’t want you to be there when the police came to scoop up people to take to jail.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Kuja accepted the bottle and took a sip. He held it back out to Mateus. “What about Seymour? He’s your friend, isn’t he? Don’t you care if he gets arrested?”

“It’s never bothered him before,” Mateus said as he reclaimed the bottle. “Besides, he’s the one who warned me it might be happening soon.”

“Soon? He knew about it?”

“Well, of course. It isn’t the first time the Zanarkand has been raided and shut down. It’s just been quite some time. The last time I think was back in 1921, probably not long before you started going there.”

“I had no idea.”

“Dwelling upon such things is bad for business.” Mateus studied the bottle. “The place was shut down three times after Prohibition started up. But then Seymour asked for some help, and the family started putting forth a certain amount of money to the local police and federal agents interested in enforcing Prohibition, in order to dissuade them from continuing to shut the place down.”

“Then, why now? And why not warn me about this sooner?”

“Shinra, I suppose. They paid off the right person to get them to go after one of the family’s larger money-makers. And, I didn’t know until just a little while ago. Seymour sent a Mr. Gabbiani over to warn me about it a few minutes after I returned from dinner.”

“Gabbiani? You mean Setzer, the doorman at the speakeasy?”

“That’s right. Seymour had only gotten wind of it a little while ago from one of the police who are still loyal to the family. He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he knew it was coming, and so he sent Mr. Gabbiani over with a little delivery and message for me.” He tapped the side of the beer bottle. Kuja puzzled over the information.

“What’s going to happen to Seymour?”

“The same thing that always happens,” Mateus said. “He’ll spend the night in jail, be out in the morning, and I’ll clear him just as quick as can be. He is my good friend, after all.” He took a sip of beer. “The club will be closed for a week or two until this little financial misunderstanding can be cleared up, and then things will go back to their usual.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.”

“I am.” He offered the bottle again. “My brother and I have just been slacking on this Shinra business, that’s all. I’ll send Ansem out to see if he can’t sniff out some information.”

“I didn’t know men could smell through their fists,” Kuja said. Mateus chuckled.

“Yes, well, we all have our own gifts.” He smiled down at Kuja. “If threats don’t work, I suppose he could sneeze on them.”

Kuja giggled despite the gravity of the subject. He took the bottle and emptied it. “Mateus, I should be honest with you, too.”

“Booze does have that power over people, doesn’t it?”

“It’s about tonight.” Kuja gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. “You see, when you called, I already knew that I shouldn’t go to the Zanarkand tonight.”

“What?”

“I had only just found out, actually. My brother warned me about it.”

“Ah, the police officer. I hadn’t thought of that possibility.” Mateus tapped a finger on his cheekbone. “You didn’t tell him where you were going, did you?”

“No, of course not. Just out. I’m an adult, it’s none of their business where I spend my nights.”

“Well.” Mateus reached and unfastened the top button on Kuja’s shirt. “I’m quite glad you’re spending your nights with me.”

“Is that so?”

“It is indeed.” He took the empty bottle and set it on the table next to the first. “Come, let’s go unwind upstairs. We can check on Seymour in the morning.”

Kuja smirked. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

“Keep undoing those buttons, and we’ll find out.”

 

The steady drone of an early downpour was the first thing that met Kuja’s ears when he awoke on Saturday morning. Mateus was still asleep, and so Kuja carefully wiggled out from under the bed covers and made his way over to the window. He pulled back the curtains and let the dull gray light of morning seep into the room. Outside it was raining quite heavily, and the people down below on the streets were rushing about in vain attempts to stay dry. Kuja smiled and looked back to the bed. Mateus had an arm thrown over his head, his hair a properly disheveled mess. The morning light cast over his relaxed features and slightly parted lips, reminding Kuja less of a man and more of an unfired working of clay.

Some inherent vanity of Mateus’s must have altered him to Kuja’s attentions, because after a few minutes of the younger man gazing at him, the elder opened his eyes. He immediately squeezed them back shut and groaned, his outstretched arm flailing slightly as he rolled over in bed.

“Close the damned curtains, you’re letting the world in.”

Kuja chuckled and pulled the curtains back. “You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping, did you know that?”

Mateus gave a little grunt. “What about when I’m awake?”

“Still fairly attractive.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” Mateus rolled over again. “Come back to bed, Romeo, it isn’t nearly morning yet.”

“Those aren’t nightingales, silly. That’s the rain and automobile horns.”

“Close enough.” Mateus sat up and rubbed at his face. “We’ll go downtown in a bit and check on Seymour.”

“Do you think he’ll be out already?”

“Probably. I spoke with my brother and asked him to... put in a good word with the folks at the station.”

“Ah, I see. Then, he’s surely out by now.”

“Don’t you poke fun at me, young man, or I’ll have another poke at you.”

Kuja laughed and pulled on a dressing gown. “Save the poking for later, we have to check on our friend.”

 

When they arrived at the city jail house a bit over an hour later, they found a familiar figure seated on the wet steps leading up to the main entrance. Seymour looked no worse for wear, still fairly crisp in his dark blue pinstripes as he smoked a cigarette. They exchanged greetings, and after thanking Mateus for the save, Seymour declared that he was starving and that his friend should be a proper gentleman and buy him breakfast. They went to the closest diner.

“It was a trap, you know.” Seymour scraped at half of a grapefruit and shoved the pale pink flesh into his mouth. Mateus blinked.

“What was?”

Seymour swallowed and picked up his glass of milk. “The whole busting the Zanarkand thing. Just a trap Shinra was playing with that didn’t go off properly.”

“Shinra?” Kuja frowned.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Kuja,” Seymour said. “It didn’t work.”

“What happened?”

Seymour lowered his voice a bit and gestured with his spoon. “Think about it. I’d paid my way with the authorities and been left alone for three years, and then all the sudden they’re banging on my door? Definitely Shinra’s dollars at work. They’ve been trying to tip me out of my nest since before they beat up your secretary, Matty.” He looked at the table top. “Sorry.”

“Never mind that. What about a trap?”

Seymour licked his lips and continued working on his grapefruit. “Well, I got word from one of the more loyal cops that this was all going down because Rufus Shinra paid a hefty amount to have it happen. Said he paid the feds more than twice what we usually give them in a month.”

Mateus let out a low whistle. Kuja turned his fork in his fingers.

“But, why?”

“To get Mateus, obviously.”

“Obviously?”

“Obviously.” Seymour sighed. “Shinra knows about the thing you two have going on. And their prying eyes have told them that Matty here likes to go to the Zanarkand on Friday nights when you work. So they set up the sting in hopes that he would be there. They’d lock him up, and hand the key over to Shinra.”

“What for?”

“To torture and kill me, most likely,” Mateus said. Kuja frowned and pushed his plate away from him. “Oh, come now, dear. Don’t let that put you off your breakfast. It didn’t happen, and it won’t, so there’s nothing for you to fret about.”

“He’s right, Kuja.”

The younger man sighed. “I don’t see how you can be so confident and lackadaisical about this.”

“We’re not, but we also know that fretting over it won’t do any good.”

“What will you do, then?”

“What I said last night,” Mateus said. He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll give Ansem a call and have him look into things.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: Just a tiny bit.

Chapter Fifteen  
July, 1924

The remainder of the spring in Alexandria was quiet. Almost unsettlingly quiet to Kuja, who had started to get used to not listening in on hushed, hurried conversations in the hallway between Mateus and Ansem and other agents of the family. When Kuja inquired about the sudden hush, Mateus told him not to worry about things, and that he had it under control. Kuja trusted Mateus enough to believe his words, but sometimes he would be woken in the middle of the night by his partner’s tossing and turning. Something troubled the older man’s dreams, but Kuja, for now, decided not to bother him about it. Dreams were a personal thing, after all.

In late June, Mateus announced to the office--Kuja and Ansem, and the doorman from the Zanarkand who happened to be there making a delivery at the time--that he planned to take a vacation the next month. A month later, Mateus and Kuja sat in their own private compartment on a train heading east to New York City from Alexandria. The gentle rocking motion of the train quickly lulled Kuja to sleep, but he was awoken from his nap by an attendant checking to see if they needed anything.

“Do you always fall asleep while on trains?” Mateus had the morning’s newspaper open.

“Oh, yes. Every time we go to visit relatives for the holidays, I nod right off just a few minutes out of the station.” Kuja rubbed at his eyes and looked at Mateus with a smile. “It helps pass the time.”

“I’ve never been able to sleep on a train,” Mateus said. “I’m not sure why.”

“How much longer do we have?”

“Probably another eight hours or so.”

Kuja made a noise of disgust and kicked his heels against the seat. “Maybe I’ll take another nap.”

“Don’t do that. You won’t be able to sleep tonight if you do that.”

“I won’t be able to sleep anyway--I’ll be too excited.”

Mateus smiled. “All the same.”

Kuja gave a melodramatic sigh and looked out the window. “I’m going to have a lot of newspapers to go through when we get back.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure nothing will happen while we’re away.”

“Mm.” He made a thoughtful noise. “This is our first time really by ourselves. You know. No city in the way, no family, no Ansem.”

The newspaper rustled briefly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Kuja sighed again. “Am I interrupting your reading? I’ll be quiet for a bit. Just give me an elbow if I fall asleep again.”

“Will do.”

Kuja passed the time by watching the countryside go by. After an hour, when all that was in sight was green hills and farmland, Kuja spoke up.

“Do you ever think about leaving Alexandria behind and going to live somewhere quieter?”

Mateus looked up from his newspaper, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the city. But it seems so pretty and peaceful out here.”

“Peaceful is boring,” Mateus said. “I’d go crazy and end up talking to the cattle.”

Kuja looked back at him and smiled. “What if you weren’t alone?”

“Then you’d probably start talking to the cattle, too. We’d start a poker club and listen to the radio and you could learn to knit.”

He smirked. “You assume I’d come to live with you in the countryside.”

“Of course you would. You’re my secretary.” Mateus tilted his head down to look at the paper again.

“Your secretary? I thought we were on a vacation, Mateus.”

“We are.” There was a sideways glance of the dark eyes. “What would you have me call you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kuja leaned back in the seat and kicked his feet at the air. “Boyfriend, maybe?”

“I don’t like the term ‘boyfriend’,” Mateus said. His nose wrinkled. Kuja laughed and half flopped towards the other man, resting the back of his head against Mateus’s shoulder. “It’s too childish.”

“That’s right. We’re not children. We’re big manly men, isn’t that right?”

“I am. I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

Kuja laughed again. “My dick works just as well as yours. Trust me: I’ve used it before.”

“There’s a disturbing mental image.” He winced as Kuja swatted his arm. “What? It’s true.”

“Like you or Seymour or any other man I’ve dated would let me near your ass.”

“Maybe if you were taller.” He winced at another smack on the arm. “Sorry.”

“Well, then, big mister manly man, if I’m not your boyfriend, what would you call me?”

“My secretary.”

“You’re being difficult, and this is a long train ride.” Kuja tipped his head back a bit. “You’re going to be stuck with me for a whole week.”

Mateus sighed faintly. “Why do we have to have titles?”

“Because I like titles.” He lifted a hand to poke at Mateus’s chin. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Well, you are, but I’m not calling you that.”

“What am I, then? Your beau? Your honey, your paramour, your inamorato, your lover, your sweetheart...”

“You’re a walking thesaurus, aren’t you.” Mateus reached and pinched Kuja’s nose. “Boyfriend is fine.” He returned his hand to the newspaper.

“Thought so.” Kuja sat back up and continued looking out the window. When Mateus, ever the slow reader without his glasses, finally finished his newspaper and neatly folded it away, he looked over at his traveling companion. Kuja had dozed off again, and had his forehead pressed against the window glass. Mateus considered waking him up, but decided to let him sleep for a bit. Kuja would likely need plenty of energy to run around the big city later on.

 

It was late in the afternoon, quickly trending toward the evening, when Mateus and Kuja arrived in New York City. They took a cab to the hotel they were staying at for the week. Kuja looked around at the traffic while their luggage was unloaded from the car. He watched a trolley go rushing past, and then an open-topped car full of people being taken on a tour of the city.

“We should go on a tour like that,” Kuja said. Mateus paid the driver and then waved at the hotel doorman.

“We can do that some time if you’d like to.” He smiled. “We can do just about anything that you would like to.”

Kuja bounced briefly on the balls of his feet, and then turned to look up at the hotel. They were staying at the Plaza Hotel, in what Mateus had promised would be the nicest room he had been able to book on relatively short notice. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and tilted his head back to look up.

“The buildings here are so much taller than in Alexandria.” He turned to where Mateus was observing a bellman gather up their luggage. “Why aren’t the buildings in Alexandria this tall?”

“They don’t need to be,” Mateus said. He headed inside to the check-in counter. Kuja chuckled and followed along.

After checking in, they rode up an elevator to one of the higher floors. Kuja explored their luxurious suite while Mateus chatted with the bellman about dinner suggestions. When the help had been paid and sent on his way, Mateus looked around until he found his partner. Kuja had opened one of the windows and was staring out at trees far below.

“We have a lovely view of Central Park, Mateus,” he said.

“Of course we do,” Mateus said cheerfully. “I wouldn’t dare let them put us in a room with a bad view.”

“We should go for a walk.” Kuja wiggled his bottom. “I could really stand to stretch my legs after being stuck on the train all day.”

“If you’d like. I had the bellman make dinner reservations for us for later, so we have some time.”

 

Aside from a few tickets for some performances on Broadway, Mateus had made no real set plans for their stay in New York. It was an impromptu sort of thing that he was not accustomed to, but Kuja’s infectious enthusiasm quickly made him forget the lack of plans and permitted him to simply enjoy himself. For the first two days in the city, he set one goal: to do whatever Kuja wanted to do. This meant going on two different tours of the city, lounging about in Central Park, browsing through what seemed like half of the boutiques in the city, and walking so much that by morning of the third day his legs ached. He loitered in bed with the morning paper, waiting for room service to deliver breakfast. The room was quiet--Kuja had wandered off downstairs to nose about in the lobby. Mateus had to admit that in Alexandria he would feel nervous about letting Kuja go off on his own like that, without at least Ansem peering after him. But here, in the even bigger and more bustling city, he felt at ease. It was a strangely pleasant feeling that he couldn’t say he had truly felt since the summers between semesters at college. The world had been simpler then, and not so blatantly out to kill him.

Kuja returned to the suite shortly after breakfast was delivered. Mateus looked up from the tray with its lavish spread and tried not to laugh. He had only been half awake when Kuja had departed on his little adventure, and Mateus had not realized that his companion had gone off wearing just his trousers and a fluffy white bath robe.

“I’m surprised the cops weren’t called after you for indecency,” he said. Kuja laughed.

“There’s nothing indecent about me.” He went over and opened a window. “Besides, it’s already getting warm out. It’ll be too dreadfully hot to wear a lot of clothes today.”

“I think I’m just going to stay here in bed all day,” Mateus said. “Come and have something to eat.”

Kuja opened another window before sashaying over to the bed. He sat on the edge, stretching to grab an orange wedge from the tray. “You can’t possibly stay in bed all day, Mat. There’s far too much to see and do in the city.”

Mateus gave a little grunt. “I’m on vacation. I don’t necessarily have to do something during every moment of it.”

Kuja pouted a bit. “Well then. What am I supposed to do all day?”

“Stay here in bed with me.”

“That’d be boring after awhile.” Kuja hoisted himself onto the covers and scooted closer to the tray.

“Aren’t you the one who suggested moving to the countryside?”

“The countryside is supposed to be slow and boring,” Kuja said. He picked up a piece of toast. “This place isn’t. It’s too full of energy to just lie about all day.”

“I’m sore from chasing you about the city.” Mateus opened his mouth as Kuja offered the toast. After taking a bite he said: “I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”

Kuja laughed. “ Don’t be silly, dear. You’re just too used to loitering in your office or standing, staring out the window and mooning like a woman in a romance novel.” He nibbled on the toast. “One would think you were waiting for someone.”

“You’re calling me lazy.”

“A little.” He swallowed. “Why do you stand by the window so much?”

“I like my enemies to know where I am,” Mateus said, his tone sarcastic. He took a sip of coffee. “We’re not in Alexandria, stop talking about work.”

“Right, right.” Kuja sighed. They ate in slightly uncomfortable quiet for a few minutes. 

Mateus drained the last of his coffee. He stared into the empty mug.“We can still go somewhere tonight. And you can go out and do something on your own, if you want. Just be careful.”

“It wouldn’t be as much fun without you.” Kuja leaned and brushed his fingers through Mateus’s messy blond bangs.

“You can go and buy a pretty ball gown, and we’ll go out fancy-dancing and I’ll pretend you’re my wife,” Mateus said. Kuja laughed.

“You’re funny when you’re cranky,” he said. “Fine, fine. Maybe I’ll go shopping. See if I can’t find a new tie for you or something.”

Mateus’s tone softened. “I’m not sending you away.”

“I know.” Kuja smiled. “I’m a big boy, Mateus, I think I can handle a few hours alone in the city.”

“This city is no safer than Alexandria,” Mateus said. “I just don’t have any obvious enemies here.”

He leaned in and kissed Mateus. “It’s okay. I think I can manage to lie here in bed with you until after lunch, at the least. Perhaps we can do something that will scandalize the maid.”

 

Later in the afternoon, just as storm clouds were beginning to gather over the peaks of New York City, Kuja returned to his room at the Plaza Hotel. He set a few shopping bags down at the foot of the big bed he and Mateus were sharing during their stay. The older man was no longer lounging away. Kuja found him easily enough in the suite’s sitting room. He was smoking a cigarette and half leaning out one of the open windows.

“I saw you coming up the street,” Mateus said by way of greeting. Kuja came over and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist.

“How could you see me from way up here?” 

Mateus chuckled. “I’m farsighted, not nearsighted.”

Kuja shook his head and leaned in to nuzzle at Mateus’s neck. “I see you finally got out of bed and dressed.”

“Had to do it eventually.” He tapped a few ashes into the glass ashtray that was perched on the windowsill. “I went downstairs a little while ago and spoke to the concierge about dinner reservations.”

“You know, the fancy restaurants and clubs are nice and all, but we should do something fun for dinner while we’re here.”

“Fun?” Mateus squinted up at the sky as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

“Less formal, I mean.”

“What, like going to one of those pizzerias we passed by on the tours?” Mateus’s expression was doubtful. “We could do that back in Alexandria.”

“We can go to fancy restaurants in Alexandria, too.”

He gave a little huff. “It’s not the same. In Alexandria I have to put up with people I know randomly coming up to me and wanting to chat in the middle of a restaurant.”

“That’s part of being the Emperor, isn’t it?” Kuja watched the corners of his lover’s mouth turn down. “But, enough of that. We don’t have to go to a pizza place, or anywhere you don’t want to.”

“Coney Island,” Mateus said.

“Hm?”

“We’ll go to Coney Island tomorrow, if the weather is better.” He gestured at the darkening sky with his cigarette. “We’ll ride the rides, mingle with the crowds, eat horrible food, go to the beach...”

Kuja smiled. “You’d like to do that?”

“As long as it isn’t raining, I don’t see why not.” Mateus shrugged. “It could be fun.”

He gave Mateus a squeeze. “I’d really like that, Mat.”

“Well, good. We’ll do that. And the day after that, we have tickets to see the Follies and some other show.”

“I’m looking forward to that.” 

Mateus nodded, and then leaned away from the window as rain began to blow down from the clouds in heavy, silver curtains. “Hopefully it will stop raining before we have to head out to dinner.”

“What should we do until then?” Kuja traced a fingertip up Mateus’s sleeve.

“Why don’t you show me what you bought while you were out, and then we can go downstairs to the lounge and see about finding something to drink.”

Kuja tugged lightly at the soft cloth. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What? Oh, you mean you...” Mateus chuckled. “We just did that a few hours ago. Not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm, but I would’ve thought you were still sore from earlier.”

“No more than usual.” Kuja mushed his lips into a pout. “But, I’m still horny.”

Mateus stubbed out his cigarette in the nightstand’s ashtray and picked up a half empty bottle of soda pop. “Fine then, take off your trousers and sit next to me.”

“You take all the romance out of sex, Mateus.” 

“Romance is for women.” Mateus drained the last of his soda and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. “And, as lovely as you are, I can tell the difference.”

“You’re as bad as Seymour sometimes, you know that?” Kuja discarded his trousers and flopped next to Mateus on the big bed. “Just a big brute.”

“You say such cruel things, and yet you still want to have sex with me,” Mateus said, his tone light and teasing. He moved around on the bed until he was facing Kuja.

“He wasn’t really that bad,” Kuja said by way of concession. “Just could have been better.”

“And that goon of Shinra’s?”

“He was good in bed.” Kuja shrugged. Mateus chuckled. “Oh, you’re no slouch, Mat.”

“I’ll have you draw up a chart when we get back to Alexandria.” He gave a brief smirk. “Consider it your first assignment when we get back.”

“What kind of cha--aah!” Kuja gave a little cry of surprise as Mateus stooped over and brought his lips to the head of Kuja’s cock. “M-Mateus?”

“If you’re going to keep raising a fuss, I’ll stop.”

“Oh, no, please go on!” Kuja settled back into a pillow, trying not to squirm as his lover’s lips and fingers and tongue began to play with his member. His brain buzzed like a bee in a jar--Mateus had never gone down on him before. Kuja clenched his fingers into the bed covers, what little part of his brain that wasn’t giving in to the blow job afraid that if he touched Mateus then he’d get spooked from his task. So he relaxed and listened to the rain. Mateus wasn’t half bad at giving head--his being a lawyer seemed to lend itself to a certain attention to detail. His fingers never left Kuja’s cock, even when his lips had slid halfway down his length. Kuja nearly came when Mateus pressed a fingertip into his still tender ass hole.

He didn’t last long. Kuja blamed it on the novelty of receiving a blow job from the older man. He came without warning, and Mateus seemed to have difficulty knowing what to do with himself. Afterwards, he wiped daintily at the corners of his mouth before giving Kuja a smug look. Kuja laughed.

“Alright, so you wanted to see what I bought earlier?”

 

The next morning dawned clear and sunny, with scarcely a cloud in the sky. Mateus and Kuja each paid their five cents to ride the subway and headed out to Coney Island. The morning was hot and muggy, and the streets and venues were all crowded with people. At first they walked side by side, Mateus casually shouldering people out of the way while Kuja tried not to laugh. Mateus continued on his way, and had gone nearly a block down the crowded street before he realized that Kuja was no longer at his side. He turned, a bit of panic welling up inside him, until he heard a familiar, laughing voice call out his name. He located Kuja a few yards away. The younger man was looking at sign advertising a freak show and fanning his face with his hat.

“There you are. You just walked right off.” Kuja was smiling. He looked up at Mateus. “What’s the matter? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

“I just...” Mateus glanced around, feeling embarrassed even though the crowds paid him no heed. “Got a bit worried when I realized I’d lost track of you.”

Kuja crammed his straw boater back onto his head and checked his reflection in a window. “There’s nothing to be worried about, Mat. We’re not in Alexandria.” He took hold of one of Mateus’s hands. “One of Shinra’s goons isn’t going to pop out of the shadows and grab me.”

Mateus huffed. “Don’t make fun of me.”

He smiled up at Mateus. “I’m not. Just relax. Have fun! That’s why we’re here, right?” Kuja moved to pull his hand free, but Mateus would not release it. “Come on.”

“I am having fun.”

“You wouldn’t know fun if it came up and slapped you on the bottom. Now, come on!”

So they went. They played silly games at the galleries and checked out the freak shows and vaudeville acts. They went to Steeplechase Park and rode the rides--Kuja enjoyed the Steeplechase a great deal and insisted on going on it another three times before mid-morning. For lunch there were hot dogs and fudge purchased after a meandering trip through a candy shop for dessert. They sat on a bench in the sun for a bit to let their meals digest, and then went down to the boardwalk and the beach. The pair wandered down the crowded sands until it started to rain. They got ice cream cones and took shelter from the brief downpour under a storefront awning. 

And for all that time, through so many venues, Mateus kept taking a hold of Kuja’s hand.

Kuja was gracious enough to not bring it up. After the ice cream and rain, they made their way back to the beach. It was less crowded now, and they were able to find a spot on the damp sand to sit and watch the ocean. When the clouds cleared and the crowds returned, Mateus and Kuja dried off their bottoms and continued walking around, hand in hand. Eventually they found their way to the Wonder Wheel, the great 150 foot tall Ferris wheel that towered over the people below. Mateus paid off the operator to secure them a private seating in one of the stationary cars on the outer rim of the wheel. Mateus watched, a smile on his face, as Kuja leaned and gawked at the world below.

“Oh, wow, look at all the people...” The violet haired head turned from side to side. “And the ocean looks so dark and blue from up here.”

“Be careful. Don’t need you falling out of the car.”

Kuja laughed and leaned back into his seat. “You know, Mateus, being on this trip with you has been really great.” He looked up at the older man. “I mean, it’s the first time I’ve gotten to really see you, for yourself. And I think... well, I l--” Kuja’s words were smothered by the application of Mateus’s lips to his own. He made a brief noise of protest, but quickly gave in and melted into his embrace. When it ended, Mateus pressed his forehead against his lover’s. Kuja chuckled softly, and then tilted his face to look out at the passing sky.

“We’re so high up here, I feel like I’m flying,” Kuja said softly.

“We’re higher in the hotel room.”

“Do you think so?”

Mateus nodded, and Kuja was quiet. As the wheel continued to turn, and they began to descend, Kuja gave a soft sigh.

“Are you afraid of me expressing my feelings, Mateus?”

“No.”

“Then, why did you stop me?”

“Because I think you perhaps feel too freely.”

“Don’t you have any feelings related to me?”

“Of course.” Mateus nodded slowly. “But I think, maybe, you are too quick to give in to your emotions. What if I end up hurting you like Seymour did?”

“Then, I’ll learn from it.” Kuja gave his hand a squeeze. “Do you have designs to hurt me, too?”

“No.”

“Then, let me say how I feel.”

“Not yet.” Mateus looked away. “I’m not ready yet.”

Kuja snorted. “And here I am, the one being chastised for being too womanly.”

“You’re not, Kuja. You’re absolutely perfect.” Mateus fell quiet as they reached the bottom and got off the ride.

“It’s just three words,” Kuja said. “Two, if you say it in Italian. Hardly anything to be afraid of.”

Mateus didn’t say anything. He just took Kuja’s hand and led him away from the Ferris wheel. Kuja swung their hands, peering up at his companion as they walked. They were back on the boardwalk when a soft ‘oh’ escaped the younger man’s lips. Mateus looked down, his expression a poor version of his usual impassive mask.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Kuja smiled. “Where do you want to get dinner?”

“I don’t know. Pizza, perhaps? There’s a lot of little places around here.”

“Good. Let’s get a few slices and some drinks, and we’ll have a little picnic on the beach.”

 

That night, they lay entwined in the sheets and each other. The suite was still a touch stuffy from the heat of the day, and every window in the suite was open in an attempt to cool off their room. Kuja idly twisted long strands of blond hair around his fingers.

“We could call for the butler and having him bring more ice,” Mateus murmured.

“That’s alright. It’s not that hot, now.”

Mateus made a faint noise of agreement. They were quiet again for several minutes before Kuja spoke.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years, Mat?”

There was a grunt. “Do you want the realistic answer or the romantic answer?”

“Why does there have to be a difference?”

“Because there just is. That’s just how my life is.” His hand moved slowly, fingertips brushing across Kuja’s thigh. “Romantic answer? I’ve made enough money to retire to a nice, private estate somewhere with only the servants to bother me.”

“What about me?”

“You could be there. Just not bothering me.”

“Mm. And the realistic answer?”

“Hole in the ground. If I’m lucky.” 

“Mateus!”

“You asked.” Mateus sighed, half rolling onto his side and pressing his face into Kuja’s hair. “Dead, if I’m lucky. In prison otherwise.”

“You’re depressing, you know that?”

“Don’t ask for realistic answers, then.”

Kuja sighed. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?” Kuja stroked his fingers through Mateus’s long hair. “What about me? I’m not depressing.”

“Where do you see yourself in a decade?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something I’m very good at doing. I’ve never really had any major plans for my life. It’s not like I can lie like most men and just say that I want to find a nice girl, get married, and have a few kids. I mean, I could do that, to pretend to be normal. But I don’t really want to.”

“If I’m not dead in ten years, you can live with me.”

Kuja’s eyes watered. “Okay. You’d better not be dead.”

“I’ll try.”

 

The next morning, Kuja was roused from a pleasant dream that involved nudity and private beaches by a hiss and grumble from his companion. Mateus was no longer in bed, but Kuja could still hear him grumbling from the bathroom as he crawled off the big bed. He pulled on a robe and went over to the bathroom door. Peeking inside, he found Mateus in his underwear. His cheeks and nose were a brilliant shade of pink. Kuja tried not to laugh.

“Got yourself a little sunburn, eh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Mateus looked at Kuja in their reflection. “Why aren’t you sunburned?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Better skin tone, I guess.”

The older man screwed his lips up into a pout. “It hurts.”

Kuja smiled. “I’ll call the butler and have them find some aloe for you.”

Mateus gave a little grunt and poked himself in the nose. “Thank you for humoring me in my indignity.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone back home that you had fun and got a sunburn.”

“You’re too good to me.”

Kuja laughed and made his way back to bed. “Probably.”

They spent the remainder of their week in New York City generally enjoying each other’s company, and the sights and sounds of the city itself. They walked through Central Park again, sampled the cuisine from a variety of restaurants, and did more shopping. Each evening they went to a different show at a Broadway theater. The first night was a viewing of that year’s Ziegfeld Follies. Kuja enjoyed getting to see Will Rogers, but the finer sights like the Ziegfeld Girls were more appropriately appreciated by Mateus. The next night they saw a play called Sweeney Todd, which both men found morbid but entertaining. Their last night in the city they saw a musical stage revue called “I’ll Say She Is”, which featured the quite entertaining talents of some rising stars known as the Marx Brothers.

Then the week was over, and Mateus and Kuja were on a train heading back west to Alexandria. Mateus sat turned to the side, facing the windows. Kuja was seated in the same position, back resting against his partner’s chest. Mateus had his arms wrapped around Kuja. They watched rain lash against the windows. They had been quiet for some time, Kuja lulled briefly to sleep by the gentle rocking of the train and Mateus lost in thought. Kuja shifted his weight slightly and stifled a yawn.

“I love you,” he said, his voice soft. The arms encircling his shoulders gave a squeeze.

“I know.”

“You’re not going to try and keep me from saying it this time?”

Mateus pressed a kiss to the top of his hair. “You’re facing the wrong direction for me to kiss you into quiet.”

Kuja stroked his fingers over one of the sleeves that surrounded him. “Do you think yourself unlovable, Mateus?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Yes, sometimes.”

“Well, I hate to tell you that you’re wrong, but you are. At the least, I find you lovable.”

Mateus closed his eyes. “And, why is that?”

“I don’t know.” Kuja chuckled. “I just do. If someone had told me that would be the case a year ago, I would have thought them mad. I probably still would now. You’re still quite imposing to anyone who doesn’t know better.”

“Are you implying that I’m not as impressive as I think I am?”

“Not at all.” Kuja patted his arm. “I just know you a bit better now than I did a year ago.”

“Do you like what you know?”

“Do you think I would have gone to New York with you if I didn’t?”

Mateus made a thoughtful noise. “I suppose I’m still too used to the capriciousness of women.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Probably better that you do.” He adjusted his weight on the seat. “This is a long ride.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen  
Halloween, 1924

Halloween at the Zanarkand in 1924 was not much different from the previous years. It was, if anything, a bit more expensive than in years gone by, as Seymour had been forced to increase the amount of his bribes to the Alexandria police force in order for them to leave the speakeasy in peace. The party was as raucous as ever, and Kuja enjoyed himself a great deal. However, as the night dragged on, the urge to depart increased with ever curiously orange-colored drink that he consumed. Mateus was not at the Zanarkand that night. He had stayed home at his town house, nursing a persisting cold that had kept him out of the office for nearly a week. The family doctor had written it off as just a cold, and not something more serious, and so Mateus was simply on bed rest until he could go in public without constantly coughing and sneezing.

It was just a bit before midnight when Kuja excused himself for the evening. He retrieved his coat from the employee closet and pulled it on over his shimmery, copper-colored dress. He was a bit tipsy, yes, but nothing new, nothing he couldn’t manage.

Seymour lead him out to the employee exit. “Are you heading home?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kuja rubbed at his nose. “I thought I might go by and see how Mat’s doing. He won’t let me stay overnight until he gets better. Doesn’t want me to get sick.”

“He’s always been like that,” Seymour said. “He used to try to ban me from our room in college when I got sick.”

“Well, I suppose then that I’m lucky I’m not living with him. I’d have a hard time explaining to my family why I all the sudden needed to come back home and use my old bed.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Seymour opened the door and held it open. “Have a good night, Kuja. See you tomorrow night.”

“Thanks, Seymour. You too.”

Kuja left the noise of the Zanarkand behind and headed down the sidewalk to where Mateus lived. Despite the holiday, the lateness of the hour kept the traffic to a minimum, and Kuja only passed a few people on his way through Alexandria. He was in fairly good spirits himself, and meandered his way down the sidewalk.

He rounded a corner and walked right into a big wall of black wool and flesh. Kuja gave a little yelp of surprise and stepped backwards. He looked up after regaining his balance.

“Rude?”

His ex-boyfriend was wearing glasses with tinted lenses, and Kuja could not make out the details of his gaze. What was visible of his expression was stony, impassive, and looking at it Kuja could not help but be reminded of the last time he had seen the man. Kuja had not spoken with Rude since the day he’d been rushed out of his ex’s apartment. Kuja resisted the urge to grab Rude’s arm to steady himself, and instead pressed his palm to the brick work.

“Rude, what are you doing here? You don’t live in this part of town.”

“Glad to see he isn’t a complete idiot.” A low, even voice spoke behind Kuja, and the younger man started. He turned to look behind him. A man stood there, tall and broad shouldered, with neatly cut blond hair and blue eyes set in a cold expression. He was dressed in a freshly pressed white suit over a black shirt. For a moment Kuja was reminded of the first time he met Mateus, except there was something worse about this man. 

“I’m sorry?”

The man smirked. “You will be.” He looked over Kuja’s shoulder, in Rude’s direction. “So this is the fellow?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose it’s to his credit that Palamecia’s pansy isn’t ugly to look at.”

Kuja swallowed, his buzz quickly fading as something akin to dread began to take its place. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

“Obviously not, since you’re still alive and showing me no respect.”

Rude’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Kuja, this is Rufus Shinra.”

“Oh.” Kuja took a step back and ran into Rude. The bigger man grabbed him by the arm and held him in place as Rufus Shinra slowly stepped closer.

“You shouldn’t look so nervous. Kuja, was it? I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time.”

Kuja swallowed. There was a little voice in his head making sarcastic retorts that he was quite certain would get him killed. So all he said was: “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Rufus peered down at him. 

“You’ve never tried calling me into your office.”

“Don’t be silly. This entire city is my office. I just haven’t had the opportunity to meet with you before.”

“Why me?”

“I think you know. You’re Mateus Palamecia’s... well, your working title is up for some amount of debate. You’re his secretary, yes? Well, he is known for using his secretaries for more than just bookkeeping.”

“I’m his secretary, sir.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I know. And that is why I’m here speaking with you tonight. I’m here to make you a business proposal.” He gave a shark like grin. “I am, after all, a businessman first and foremost.”

Kuja thought of Kefka Palazzo and his daughter and what had happened to them when they got in the way of Rufus Shinra and his business.

“What sort of business?”

“The most important part of business, young man. Information.” The grin widened. It looked unnatural on Rufus’s face, and Kuja shrunk away from it, pressing against Rude’s chest. “The most important part, yes. You see, you have all sorts of interesting information in that pretty little empty head of yours. And I would like to go into the business of getting that information from you.”

“You mean information about Mateus Palamecia.”

“I do indeed. Aren’t you a clever little thing.” The smile fell from Rufus’s face, and it’s sudden departure was almost as unsettling as its presence had been. “Now then. Business terms.” He stared down at Kuja and leaned in slightly. “I think we can work something out. I can get you a nice, real job somewhere here in Alexandria. Want a nice house as far from the Treno slums as possible? I can do that, do. Just interested in money? I can easily pay you triple of whatever pittance Palamecia is giving you.”

Kuja swallowed. Between Rufus leaning in toward him, and Rude standing at his back, he was starting to feel claustrophobic. Rude’s grip on his arm had not abated and was starting to make the limb ache. “And what... What would you ask of me, in return?”

Rufus smirked. “Hmph. You secretaries are so easily bought. It’s pathetic, you know that?” The smirk faded. “All I would need in return is all the information you have about Mateus Palamecia and his Family. And, perhaps, if you want to increase your benefits, continue to work for him for the time being, to deliver me more information.”

“To what end?”

“To destroy them, of course.”

Kuja swallowed. “And what if I... decline your business proposal?” He winced as Rude’s grip tightened.

“You would be a fool to do so. But, if that was your decision, then I would simply have to obtain the information I need from you by force.” He seemed pleased by Kuja’s discomfort. “My interrogators aren’t as skilled as your employer’s, but they get the job done.”

Kuja wasn’t sure what to say. He wished Rude would say something, anything that might reassure him somehow, but his friend was gone from him now.

“So then, Kuja. What will it be?”

He swallowed again, mouth dry and tasting horrible. “I--”

“Kuja, there you are!”

He nearly fainted from the surge of relief that hit his brain. Kuja looked past Rufus Shinra at the rapidly approaching form of a police officer. Rufus took a step away, and the immense pressure of Rude’s hand was released from Kuja’s arm.

“Zidane!”

His younger brother looked between the three men, brow wrinkling briefly. “Hell, you know you were told to be home by midnight.”

Kuja tried to keep his voice steady, but wasn’t sure how successful he was. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need a curfew.”

“Tell that to Mother when we get home.” Zidane grabbed Kuja’s wrist and tugged him away from Rufus and Rude. Rufus Shinra’s jaw was clenched as he watched the brothers. Zidane touched the brim of his blue police cap. “Mr. Shinra. Didn’t expect to see you out and about on Halloween.”

The look on Rufus’s face was venomous. “Officer Tribal.”

“Do keep care tonight. We’ve been chasing hooligans around Alexandria all evening.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

Zidane hauled his older brother away from the corner so quickly that Kuja nearly stumbled. When they were out of sight of Rufus Shinra and his goon, Zidane let his wrist go and sighed heavily.

“What the hell was that, Kuja?”

He rubbed at his wrist. “Probably just what it looked like.”

“You’re lucky my patrol was in this part of town tonight, or Mother would likely have to be filing a missing person’s report on your ass Monday morning.”

“I’m sorry, Zidane.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t apologize.”

Kuja pursed his lips and crossed his arms. He looked down at the sidewalk as they headed in the direction of home.

“What happened?”

“I was heading from the Zanarkand to Mat’s place, and--”

“Wait, Mateus Palamecia? The Emperor?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s sick, and I wanted to make sure he was doing alright.”

“But, why would you care about...” Zidane’s voice trailed off. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I was just heading that way, and then I walked right into Rude and then Rufus Shinra was there.” Kuja shuddered. “What a horrible person.”

“You said the same of Mateus Palamecia when you first worked for him.”

“I know. I don’t know.” Kuja shook his head. “He wanted me to snitch on the Palamecias for him. Offered me a lot of money to do it.”

“Shit. What did you say?”

“I asked him what would happen if I declined. He said they’d get the information by force. But, you showed up before I could give any real answer.”

“Good, good.” Zidane pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “You knew working for the Palamecias would put you in danger.”

“I know. I don’t regret it. I’m just glad you showed up when you did.”

“Were you scared?”

“I about pissed myself,” Kuja said, and gave a tired laugh. “Hell, and I was having a good night, too.”

“Just promise me that you’ll be more careful.”

“I will.” He looked up at the dark sky. “Hey, Zidane. How did Rufus Shinra know your name?”

“Because he’s been trying to get me on his payroll ever since I joined the force. The other guys at the station say he does it to everyone, but he’s been pretty persistent about it.”

“Because of me,” Kuja said.

“That’s right. Rufus Shinra is a man who likes to keep all his connections crystal clear to him. He knows I’m your brother, and he knows who you work for.”

“Aren’t you worried about your safety?”

Zidane shrugged. “No more than I am any other day on the job. It’s part of the gig.”

 

When they got home, Kuja went into the kitchen and used the phone to call and check on Mateus. The next morning, Saturday, was bitingly cold. Kuja found Ansem waiting for him just down the street when he left home to head to Mateus’s town house. The dark man said nothing as Kuja walked through town. He simply trailed a few paces behind Kuja. The younger man wondered if Mateus somehow knew what had occurred the night before. Kuja had not mentioned any specifics to him, but it was possible that Mateus had still found out. The Palamecias had their own set of eyes in Alexandria, just like the Shinra family did.

Kuja reached Mateus’s place in what felt like record time--perhaps because he was trying to outpace Ansem. He unlocked the front door with his key. Mateus was sitting on the blue couch, a thin blanket draped over his shoulders. Kuja closed the door behind him and clicked the locks back into place. The older man coughed and got to his feet.

“You sent Ansem to escort me.”

“I felt it necessary.”

“Yes, well...” Kuja’s chest heaved with a sigh. “Thanks.”

The older man came over, ignoring that he had a cold, and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s forehead. 

“Tell me what happened,” Mateus said. “Everything.”

And so Kuja did, from uneasy beginning to end. Mateus’s brow wrinkled in thought and an old scowl appeared on his lips. The look made Kuja uneasy, as he had not seen it in a long time.

“I should have gone to the party yesterday. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there.”

“It’s not your fault, Mat,” Kuja said. “You’re sick.”

“They took advantage of my weakness.” Mateus turned and headed to the kitchen. Kuja hung up his coat and followed.

“I’m alright. Zidane showed up at just the right time, really.”

“It shouldn’t have come to that.” Mateus stood at the counter and poured hot water into a tea cup. “What sort of lover am I, if I can’t even protect you?”

“Protect me?” Kuja opened the ice box and pulled out a bottle of soda pop. He retrieved the bottle opener from a drawer and opened the bottle. “Why do you have to be the one to protect me? Why can’t I protect you?”

Mateus gave a disbelieving sniff. “You protect me.”

“Yes. We’re both men, Mateus. Equals and all that. We protect each other.”

“You’re...” Mateus coughed, though Kuja wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just doing it to stall for time. “You’re shorter than me. And younger than me--much younger. And I have more money, and more power. So, in theory, I should be the dominant person in this relationship.”

Kuja took a sip from his bottle and shook his head. “Nice try.”

Mateus sighed. “You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“And yet, you love me anyways.”

The older man grunted and picked up his tea. He shuffled back to the couch and sat down. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“You’d have to find another secretary.”

“Not funny.”

Kuja sat next to him. “Do you want to know what Rufus Shinra said to me?”

“I can probably guess.” Mateus turned his cup in his hands. “Is it so wrong that I want to protect you?”

“No, I just... I don’t know. Just because you’re nearly a decade older than I am doesn’t mean that I’m some dumb kid who needs to be protected.”

“I’m not saying that you are.” He took a sip from the cup and grimaced. “I want to have Rufus killed, just for getting close to you.”

“He wanted to pay me, quite heavily, to give him information on you.”

Mateus’s dark eyes stared into the slightly rippling surface of his tea. “You’d never have seen any of that money.” He took another sip. “He probably thinks you’re just as dumb as most of the women I’ve hired.”

“Why keep hiring dumb women if they’re just going to betray you for a few baubles?”

“A very valid question.” He turned his head away and coughed.

“You’re sounding better. What did your doctor say?”

“Bed rest for another few days.” He sighed again. “Bed isn’t quite as enjoyable without you in it, dear.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Don’t worry, it’s just for a few more days. You don’t want me to take ill, do you?”

“Of course not.” He pouted. Kuja reached and smoothed his ruffled blond hair with a pale hand.

“I think he thinks I’m just screwing you out of some obligation,” Kuja said. “Like it’s part of my job or something.”

“Is it? Are you?”

He snorted softly. “Maybe when we’re at work and you have me bent over the desk.”

“That’s not work. That’s just making good use of our time.”

 

Saturday night, when Kuja arrived at the Zanarkand, Seymour was loitering near the employee entrance. Kuja was surprised--even when they had been seeing each other in a romantic fashion, Seymour had never been the type to wait for him by the door. He gave a puzzled smile as he removed his coat.

“Hey there, Seymour. Something wrong?”

“No. Are you alright?”

“It’s a little colder out than I expected, but...” Kuja paused, folding his coat over his arm. “You aren’t talking about me in general.”

“Matty called me after you left his place today.”

He smiled. “I should have expected as much. I’m half surprised that he didn’t call you before I even got to his place this morning.”

“I suppose that he wanted to hear the story from your mouth, and not his spies.”

“Probably.” Kuja shook his head as they walked toward the employee lounge. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to get Shinra to leave you along for this long.”

“Just barely, to be honest.” Seymour bumped the lounge door open with his shoulder. “When I made it clear enough that I didn’t intend on switching loyalties to their family, that was about when the club got busted by the police this Spring.” He leaned against the door frame, watching as Kuja hung up his coat. “Since then, I’ve had to put an ever-increasing amount of money into bribing the police just so I can stay in business. It won’t be long before I’m barely breaking even.”

“Then why bother?”

He shrugged. “Spite? Something like that. Shinra already has people trying to buy the land out from under my feet. I’ll burn the place to the ground before I let those paddy assholes take it.”

“I’m sorry,” Kuja said. He pressed his palm against Seymour’s cheek. “Why not ask Mateus for help?”

Seymour half closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I already have. He already is. But, unless Belias gets his rear in gear, we’ll all be in trouble soon enough.”

He gave Seymour’s cheek a pat. “Ever the optimist.”

“Just don’t bring it up to Matty. I don’t need him getting an ulcer from worrying.”

Kuja chuckled. “He’s my boyfriend, not yours. Let me do the worrying.”

“Ah, but he was my best friend first. So, I’m still entitled to some worrying.”

“If you say so.” He wrapped an arm around Seymour’s middle and squeezed him. “We can both look out for him.”

“Yes, I think that’s for the best.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Warning: Just this once, one last time.

Chapter Seventeen  
December, 1924

That winter was cold and dry. The lovely snowfall of the year before was nowhere to be seen, and even as the year drew to a close there was no snow. Kuja’s birthday and Christmas both passed, and though the weather remained frigid, there was not a flake to be found.

“It was so much nicer last year, don’t you think?” Kuja rubbed at his nose with a gloved hand. “The cold isn’t so bad if there’s snow, too.”

Mateus slowed as he skated past his partner. “We could have some imported, if you’d like.”

The younger man watched the elder go by and shook his head with a laugh. “You’d think after this long, I’d be able to tell if you’re joking or not.”

“It’s a gift.”

Kuja continued skating slowly along the ice. He tilted his head back and studied the sky. It was a nearly moonless night, and the cloudless sky shimmered with stars beyond the young man’s counting or comprehension. His mind drifted back to his recent birthday. He was twenty-four years of age now, and for some reason the number weighed heavily on his mind. Kuja had no idea why. As he lowered his gaze from the heavens, he noticed a motionless figure seated on a bench on the opposite side of the frozen lake.

“Mateus, it’s the day after Christmas. Couldn’t you give Ansem some time off?”

“Hm?” Mateus looked in the direction that Kuja indicated. He shrugged. “He is off. If he’s here stalking after me, then he’s doing that of his own volition.”

“Seems kind of sad. Doesn’t he have anyone to spend time with?”

“Not that I know of, but I believe that is by his own choice.” He grabbed Kuja’s hands and lightly tugged him along. “What he does when he’s not on the clock is up to him.”

“If you say so.”

“Does it bother you? I could tell him to stop.”

“No, it’s alright. I know he’s just looking out for you. I don’t know why he’s so concerned when he’s not technically at work, but...”

Mateus shrugged again, pulling Kuja closer. “I’m his meal ticket. His stay out of jail card.”

“Maybe he’s just bored.”

“Yes, that could be part of it, too.”

They twirled slowly on the ice, as they sometimes did on a ballroom floor. Kuja smirked. “Do you think he fancies you?”

“Maybe. I’m very fancy-able, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “Yes, but I might be just a tad bit biased.”

“Just a bit.” Mateus leaned in and gave him a kiss. “The guards haven’t been giving you too much trouble, have they?”

“The men you have watching my house? No, not at all. We barely notice them. They’re very subtle, for a bunch of thugs. Nice enough, even. One of them helped my mother with the groceries the other day.”

“Yes, well. If I’m going to pay them to loiter about and watch for Shinra’s men all day, the least they can do is make themselves useful.”

Kuja shivered and pressed him against Mateus. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“You knew what you were getting into last year,” he said. Mateus rubbed at Kuja’s arms. “You cold?”

“Just a little.”

“Why don’t we head back home, then? We can have some cocoa, and I’ll warm you up.”

Kuja smiled. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

 

A few nights later was New Year’s Eve. The Zanarkand was again alive and bright with lights and crammed with people ready to cast off another year. It still had not snowed, despite the persistent cold.

“This is costing me a fortune,” Seymour said, his tone lamenting as he downed a glass of champagne. He looked across the table at his friend. “Just a fortune. But, it’s worth it.”

“It’s always worth it,” Mateus said. His gaze was out on the dance floor, where Kuja was merrily dancing away, his body covered in a bright violet shimmer. “It makes Kuja happy. So, it’s worth it.”

Seymour set his glass down and followed the other man’s gaze. “Thanks for chipping in for all this.”

“My pleasure,” Mateus said, his eyes still affixed to Kuja’s backside. Seymour cleared his throat.

“Are you worried at all?”

“About what?”

“About Kuja.”

Mateus glanced away from the dance floor. “Why would I be worried about Kuja? Beyond the obvious threats to his safety, which I have well provided for.”

“That’s not quite what I meant.”

“What, then?”

“Last year at new years, Kuja got involved with you,” Seymour said. “And with me, the year before. Aren’t you at all concerned that he’s going to go home tonight with someone new?”

“No, of course not,” Mateus said. He sipped his champagne. 

“You’re awfully confident.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I pay attention to Kuja. I think I would notice if his eyes were wandering somewhere else.”

“Your words wound me, old friend.”

Mateus gave a little grunt. “What, are you planning on trying to steal him back? Good luck with that.”

“No, of course I’m not.” Seymour smiled. “I think he’s better off now. Don’t you?”

“I do.” He tipped his head to the side. “And that’s not just self-aggrandizing.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

After a few minutes, and as the midnight hour drew near, Kuja returned to the table where Seymour and Mateus sat. His cheeks were flushed, and he was out of breath. He stooped and pressed a kiss to Seymour’s cheek before depositing himself in Mateus’s lap.

“Oh, Seymour! You’ve really outdone yourself this year. Everything is just beautiful!”

Mateus patted his partner’s hip. “Yourself included?”

Kuja giggled and tipped his head back. “Oh, I’m being modest tonight, Mat. I’m trying it out for the new year.”

“You’ve nothing to be modest about, my dear.”

The younger man dragged another chair over and transferred himself to it. “Everything is good, right? You two aren’t over here being depressing, are you?”

“Not at all. We were just singing praises about your dancing,” Seymour said.

“Right, you were both just looking at my ass.” Kuja picked up Mateus’s glass and took a sip. “I know you two quite well, don’t forget.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kuja leaned his elbows on the table top and looked up at his partner. “Will we be leaving shortly after midnight again to have passionate-but-awkward sex, or can I stay a bit longer this year to dance?”

“Awkward?” Seymour echoed. Mateus coughed, his cheeks darkening.

“Awkward on Mat’s part, of course,” Kuja said.

“Oh, because he didn’t know what he was doing,” Seymour said. Kuja giggled and nodded.

“You can stay and dance!” Mateus barked, his voice rising slightly in pitch. Kuja continued laughing.

 

Kuja was still giggling hours later, when the rush of the new year had passed. He was in bed with Mateus, on his back, legs wrapped along the older man’s sides. Mateus paused in his attentions, fingers still curled around his partner’s cock. He kissed at Kuja’s shoulder.

“You had entirely too much to drink tonight.”

Kuja danced his fingers up Mateus’s arms. “Maybe! Are you complaining?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gave Kuja’s cock a squeeze, and smirked as his partner’s tipsy tittering broke off into a groan. 

Later, when they were both spent and wrapped in each other’s embrace and watching the first gray lights of morning filter in through the curtains, Mateus pressed a kiss to the top of Kuja’s hair.

“Happy new year,” he said softly. Kuja hummed sleepily and pressed his face against Mateus’s chest.

“Love you too.”

 

It finally snowed on the morning of Mateus’s birthday. Kuja was the one to discover this, since Mateus had opted to sleep in. When Mateus did finally wake up, it was because the curtains had been thrown open wide, letting in the brilliant morning sunlight that followed the passing of the snow clouds. He rubbed at his eyes and got out of bed, finding his slippers left on the floor next to his side of the bed. He wasn’t sure when his side of the bed had become his side of the bed. It was, after all, his bed, but at some point in time Kuja had insinuated himself into having his own side of the bed--the right side, closer to the window--and Mateus had not thought to argue about the matter. All the same, Mateus appreciated Kuja having moved the slippers to his bedside, so that he did not have to toe across the cold floor to where he had left them by the closet door the day before. 

He pulled on his robe, going over to the window and looking out. There was a nearly pristine layer of snow painted over Alexandria. Not too much, just enough to quiet the complaints of people who missed a winter snow shower. He scanned the surroundings, and then headed downstairs. The smell of coffee and food met his nostrils, and he let out a pleased sigh as he entered the kitchen. There he found Kuja, already dressed, standing in front of the stove with a metal spatula in hand.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to not open the curtains in the morning,” Mateus said. Kuja turned and looked up at him, a pretty smile springing to his face. 

“Good morning, birthday boy,” he said. “And, don’t be silly. You would never wake up if I didn’t open the curtains.”

“I would have woken in time for dinner.” He kissed Kuja’s cheek before seating himself at the table. Kuja had already poured him a cup of orange juice and a mug of coffee, as well as setting out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. The Wednesday morning paper had been placed within arm’s reach. “Well, aren’t you the little homemaker this morning.”

“Only because it’s your birthday.” Kuja put a few pieces of sausage onto a plate and set it on the table. “Not that you don’t deserve to be spoiled every day, but, I’m no chef.” 

Mateus smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

Kuja returned the smile. “My pleasure.” He turned off the stove, and after filling his own plate sat across from Mateus at the table. Mateus took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re already dressed?”

“I had to go out and get some fresh things for breakfast.” Kuja gestured toward the windows in the sitting room. “It snowed overnight.”

“So I saw.” He took a bite of toast. “You can stop complaining about it, now.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“You were. And last year, you complained that there was too much snow.” Mateus smirked. “You’re awfully difficult to please.”

Kuja stuck his tongue out briefly, before busying himself buttering a piece of toast. “There just needs to be a nice balance of things, that’s all.”

“Fair enough.” Mateus watched his lovely companion for a moment. “You didn’t run into any trouble while you were out, did you?”

“What? No, nothing at all. Ansem was about, so there weren’t any problems. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Mateus couldn’t help but feel that he did. 

Kuja cleared his throat. “Were you going into the office today?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have anything scheduled, do I?” At Kuja’s negative shake of the head, he shrugged. “Then, maybe not. Maybe I’ll just enjoy a nice quiet day at home.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I’m getting old. Boring is enjoyable, now and then.” A nice boring day inside, without any concern of being ambushed by one of Rufus Shinra’s goons. Yes, that would be nice. 

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Stay here and be bored with me? It’s up to you, of course.” He raised his brows in what he hoped what an appropriately suggestive manner. Kuja chuckled as he picked up his coffee.

“You’re not old, Mateus. Just older.” The younger man sipped from his mug. “And even if you are getting older, you’re still quite attractive.”

“I’m glad that you think so.” He made a face. “Would you still want me if I were horribly disfigured?”

“I could ask the same question of you.”

“That’s a sneaky way of avoiding the question.”

“I am not naive enough to think that our relationship doesn’t rely heavily on mutual physical attraction,” Kuja said. He shrugged. “Maybe mildly disfigured.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do have other things going for you, Mat.” Kuja looked across the table and smiled fondly at his partner. “You’re not like me. You’re very intelligent and clever and good at your job and good at making lesser men feel like they should be licking your boots.”

“You don’t have to belittle yourself for my sake,” Mateus said.

“I’m not.” Kuja set his mug down and got up from the table. Mateus watched him walk out of the kitchen, wondering if he had said something to offend the other man. He didn’t think he had. Perhaps he should have given him a compliment in return. Mateus wasn’t sure--Kuja was difficult to read sometimes, even after knowing him for more than a year. His concerns faded when Kuja quickly returned, a bit of a bounce to his step, carrying a small box wrapped in sleek dark red paper. A white ribbon had been wrapped around the package and tied in a bow. Kuja set it on the table near Mateus’s plate.

“What’s this?”

Kuja smiled brightly as he returned to his seat. “I got you a present, silly.”

He considered the gift. “Do you want me to open it now?”

“You can if you want. Or, you can wait until you’re done eating.”

Mateus picked up a napkin and wiped at his mouth. “I don’t think I want to wait.”

“Well, then open it.”

He picked up the box and curiously tested its weight. It wasn’t very large--it fit into his hand--but had a bit of the heft of wood behind it. Mateus carefully untied the ribbon and removed the red paper. Inside the package was a wooden box, with the emblem of some European watch maker imprinted on its surface. Inside, resting on dark blue felt, was a pocket watch.

“Ah, you remembered,” he murmured as he lifted the watch from its case. It was simple, sterling silver, with a small crown etched onto its cover. Inside the cover were etched the letters M.A.P.--Mateus’s initials. Kuja had teased Mateus about his initials, which had earned him a swat on the bottom, but that was all that had come from that little incident. Mateus ran his thumb over the face of the watch and observed the steady movement of the second hand.

“You raised enough of a stink about losing your watch, of course I remembered.” Kuja smiled. “I wanted to have it for Christmas, but there were some delays in the shipping.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Mateus turned the watch over and looked at the back. “No sentimental note on it?”

His partner laughed. “Sentimental drivel is for people who expect to be missed.”

“I miss you one the nights you don’t stay here with me.”

“Now you’re being sappy.” Kuja reached across the table and covered Mateus’s hand with his own. “Happy birthday, love.”

 

A bit over a week later, Kuja headed into work at the Zanarkand early. He helped Seymour with unpacking and checking a new set of drinking glasses. Many of the speakeasy’s glasses had been broken during a drunken fight upstairs that past weekend, and Kuja had volunteered to help Seymour make sure everything was ready for that night’s usual carousing.

“I can’t believe you just let them throw all those glasses,” Kuja said as he wiped out one of the new glasses.

“Bad for business,” Seymour said.

“Worse than having to clean up all that mess and buy new servingware?”

“Yep.” The older man put the lid back on a box. “Glasses are cheap and replaceable, as is the booze I was selling them. Customers are harder to replace. Get bad word of mouth and then all the sudden you’re going to be wiggling your butt alone on the dance floor.”

“I see. I guess.” Kuja shook his head.

There was a knock on the door to the speakeasy, and Seymour went to see who it was. For a moment there was murmuring, and then an old, sad, familiar laugh met Kuja’s ears. He set the glass down and looked to the doorway. There stood Kefka Palazzo, looking as well kept as ever.

Kuja was surprised. It had been many months--probably closer to a year--since he had seen Kefka in person. That time had only been in passing, when Kefka was hurriedly dropping off a few bottles that Seymour had requested for a special private party that was being held at the Zanarkand. Since then, the little blond man had been completely out of contact.

“Kefka!”

He paused in unpacking a crate and smiled. There was something weary in his eyes, and a few wrinkles at the edges that Kuja did not remember. “Hey there, doll. Long time, no see.”

Kuja made his way over to the counter, ignoring the knowing look on Seymour’s face as he did. “You look tired.”

“Been a long year.” Kefka looked over at the proprietor of the club. “Seymour, you mind if I borrow your little friend for a few minutes? Won’t be long.”

“Go right ahead,” Seymour said.

They went downstairs, same as in years before. There were a few boxes stacked in the little office now, but the desk and chair were still there. Kuja perched on the edge of the desk, smiling wordlessly as Kefka pushed the silky green fabric of his dress up his thighs and against his belly. Kefka’s fingers hooked in the edge of Kuja’s drawers and tugged them down until they fell loose, hooking briefly on Kuja’s foot before Kefka pulled them off and tossed them into the seat of the chair. He rubbed his hands along Kuja’s thighs.

“You look good. Is Mateus taking good care of you?”

Kuja smiled. “Yes, he is.” He leaned back some, pushed his ass out and spread his legs apart. His mind touched briefly on the fact that he was in a relationship with someone who might not approve of this interaction, but the thought flitted away at further caresses from the older man.

“Good. I’d hate myself for letting him have you if he wasn’t.”

Kuja let out a breathy laugh. “You didn’t have a say in that matter, Kef.”

“Sure I did.” Kefka retrieved the jar of petroleum jelly from the desk and coated his fingers in it. Kuja let out a gasp as the fingers slid into him. “Mm, still a bit tender, I see. Mateus must be treating you very well.”

He parted his legs a bit more. “Ah, just after dinner, actually.”

“Good, then, this won’t take too long.”

And it did not take long before Kefka was sliding his fingers in and out of Kuja’s asshole, flexing the digits as he pushed them in over and over again. He freed his big cock with his unoccupied hand and coated it with some of the jelly. When Kefka switched his fingers out for his cock, Kuja was already quite ready and waiting. Kuja groaned as Kefka pushed into him, burying himself to the hilt and grinding a bit roughly for a few minutes before beginning to thrust.

“Oh, Keffy!” Kuja groaned, back arching. “Oh, I missed you!”

Kefka just grunted in reply, pushing Kuja’s legs back until his heels rested on the smaller man’s shoulders. He was wordless and determined for several minutes, pumping into Kuja like it was his God-granted mission, until he buried himself again and came. Kuja was a wiggling mess on the desk, and dropped his feet down as Kefka withdrew and went to sit in the chair. Kuja needed no directions. He slid off the desk and hurried over to the chair, climbing into Kefka’s lap. He braced his legs up against the back of the chair and positioned himself. His fingers located the slippery head of Kefka’s cock and guided it back to his hole. He lowered himself, moaning with pleasure as the fat cock slid back into him. He bounced in Kefka’s lap, one hand stroking his own cock. Kuja leaned in and kissed the older man, his breath coming in enthusiastic pants.

They came nearly at the same time. Kefka tsked and laughed at the bit of semen that got onto the front of his vest, but did not complain. They helped each other clean up, and as he watched Kuja pull his drawers back on, the sad, tired look returned to Kefka’s face.

“I still love you, you know,” he said. “Not to make you feel guilty or something. I just do. I think I always will.”

“I understand, Kefka,” Kuja said. He smoothed down the front of his desk, double checking for any stray stains.

“You’re just too good for a guy like me. I’ve got no right to take care of you.” Kefka looked at the floor. Kuja touched his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?”

“I... I suppose me coming here tonight was selfish, wasn’t it?”

“Was it? I didn’t mind. Haven’t seen you in months.”

Kefka swallowed, right leg flexing and tapping the toe of his black shoe on the floor. “About that.”

Kuja leaned against the desk. “Kefka?”

The older man licked his lips and made his way over to the desk. He leaned against it as well, elbow brushing Kuja’s. “I’ve been thinking about getting out of the business. I just... I’m not cut out for this anymore.” He sighed. “I’m just going to cash my chips out and leave. Go someplace else.”

“Someplace else?”

“I was thinking California. Nice and warm there, you know?”

Kuja nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah, they say it’s nice.” 

“I would ask you to go with me, Kuja, but you’re needed here. You have someone here, and a place here. You don’t belong with an old pervert like me.”

“Kefka, you’re not--” Kuja swallowed at a lump in his throat. “I’ll miss you, Kefka.”

“Oh, no you won’t.” The older man raised a hand and touched Kuja’s cheek. “But, I will miss you.”

“Write me sometime?”

“I’ll send you a postcard.”

“Good.” Kuja made a wistful noise. “So, this is goodbye? Am I ever going to see you again?”

“After I leave here tonight, no, I don’t think you will. I plan on being in the next state by dawn.”

“Oh.” He picked at the edge of his dress. “I will miss you.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all sentimental on me.” Kefka patted Kuja’s knee.

“You’re right.” He looked at the older man. “Want to at least share a drink before you go?”

Kefka, master of the booze trade in Alexandria, let out a laugh. It was a bright and wild thing that filled the little room. “Oh no, sweetheart, I don’t drink. That stuff’s poison!”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen  
April, 1925

The sky was gray and looming with clouds, but no rain was falling. It hadn’t really rained in weeks, from what Kuja could recall. The sky would fill with clouds, ominous and brooding, but no rain would fall. After the long, practically snowless winter, he couldn’t help but wish for a little rain. Kuja pushed the curtain back into place and returned to Mateus’s bed. The older man was still in bed, the covers pulled up nearly over his head. He was motionless now, but it had become impossible for Kuja to ignore how much he was tossing and turning lately in his sleep. 

“Wake up, darling, it’s morning.”

Mateus grunted and pressed his face into the pillow. Kuja sighed and combed his fingers through his partner’s tousled hair. “I know you’re tired, but you told me to make sure you got to the office on time today. Big day in court and all that.” There was another grunt from the pillow. Kuja shook his head and got up. “I’ll go make coffee, then.”

It took nearly fifteen minutes before Mateus made his appearance downstairs. He had taken the time to put on his robe and tie his hair back, but in Kuja’s opinion he was still a disheveled mess. Mateus stooped and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s cheek before depositing himself at the table. Kuja poured him a mug of coffee and set it down, his hand transferring from the mug to his partner’s cheek.

“You nervous about today?”

“What? No.” Mateus took a gulp of coffee and grimaced. “You act as though I’ve never been in court before.”

“I know, but you’ve been playing the part of a nervous wreck the last few days.”

Mateus’s voice was stern. “I’m not nervous. Just tired, that’s all.”

Kuja chuckled softly, though he could barely force mirth into the noise. He draped an arm along Mateus’s shoulders and nuzzled at his hair. “Well, that’s what you get for letting me keep you up so late.”

“I should take you over my knee and spank you,” Mateus said into his coffee mug.

“You’ve had worse ideas.” He kissed his partner’s forehead and sat at his usual place at the table. “Do you think you’ll be in court all day?”

“Most of it. We’ll likely have to have dinner late tonight, if I can manage to get things wrapped up in one sitting. I know this judge. He likes to finish things up in one long session when possible.”

“I suppose I’ll stay at the office all day and wait for you.”

“How dreadfully dull.” Mateus smirked. “Almost as bad as sitting in an uncomfortable chair listening to idiots prattle for ten hours.” He sipped his coffee. “We can meet when there’s a break for lunch, at the least.”

Kuja nodded. “That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?”

The older man stared across the table, and then smiled. “Yes, yes it is.”

 

The sun had already set when Mateus returned to his office building. Kuja was waiting for him, seated at his desk as he had been for most of the day. He had the newspaper sitting out, but was halfway through a raunchy bit of prose that one of the bartenders from the Zanarkand had lent him. He quickly marked his page as the door creaked open. Mateus stood in the doorway for a moment, jacket draped over his arm.

“Well, you look no worse for wear,” Kuja said. He watched Mateus rub at his brow as he stepped into the room.

“My brain sort of hurts,” he said, and tossed his coat onto Kuja’s desk. He did not stop, and instead followed his usual route of pacing to the window. “So many excessively big words used by so many excessively stupid men.”

“You’re not counting yourself amongst that number, are you?”

“Of course not.” He stretched his arms over his head and then dropped his hands back to his sides.

“Good day in court, then?”

“By someone’s definition. I came out on top of the pile, at least.”

“Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

Mateus yawned. “Means I get paid.”

“A little extra padding in your pockets never hut.”

“Yes, it means I have more to spend on you.”

There was a faint cracking noise outside, as though a car had backfired. Then part of the window Mateus was standing at shattered. Mateus let out a small exclamation of pain, then took a step backwards and sank to the floor. It happened so quickly that it took a moment for Kuja’s mind to fully register what had happened.

“Mateus?!” Kuja pushed away from his desk and started to his partner’s crumpled form.

“Down,” Mateus said, his voice a pained croak. “Stay down. Away from the window.”

Kuja froze in place, looking to the window. The panes had shattered inwards, and he could hear the light noise from the street below. He took a step back and squatted. 

“I’m okay,” Mateus said. Kuja looked to his shoulder. His hand was gripping there, and the pale blue fabric was covered in a spreading stain of blood. “Get the... the..” He hissed in pain, head flopping down and pressing his chin to his chest for a moment. He shifted his weight off his knees until he was seated on the floor. “Call my doctor.”

Kuja went back to the desk and pulled out Mateus’s book of phone numbers. He wondered where Ansem was. Kuja would have expected the dark man to already come storming into the room. He found the number for the Palamecia’s family doctor--a man by the name of Dr. Bunansa--and called him.

While they waited for the doctor to arrive, Kuja sat on the floor next to Mateus. The older man had his eyes closed, and was breathing through his nose. His face was set in a perpetual grimace of pain, and his hand was still clenched on his shoulder.

“Should we call the police?” Kuja wondered. Mateus shook his head slightly, and then grunted.

“No, no, after the doctor gets here, call my brother. Let him know what’s happened. He’ll take care of things.”

“What did happen, Mat?”

“Shot, obviously. Not sure where from--it’s dark out already. Sneaky fucks.”

“Shinra, you think?”

“Of course.” He inhaled deeply and let a shaky breath out between his lips. “Fuck, but I never wanted to get shot again. I’m not that good with pain. Or blood.”

Kuja let his mumbling pass. “Where’s Ansem?”

“Most likely chasing after whoever is going to owe us money for a new window.”

“I thought he would come check on you.”

“He knows you’re here with me.” Mateus moved his right hand to reach for Kuja, but stopped with a wince. “Where’s the damned doctor?”

Kuja took his right hand between his own. “He should be here soon. Just relax.”

“I’m on the floor, I’m perfectly relaxed.” Mateus briefly lifted his left hand from his shoulder and looked at his blood stained fingers. “Oh, my, that’s--” The arm went slack, and Mateus’s eyes closed again. His body went lax and he slumped toward his secretary.

“Mateus?” Kuja touched his left shoulder. There was no response. “Please tell me you didn’t just faint like a child...” He sighed softly and shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

 

“Just make sure he stays in bed and rests. I’ll come back by on Thursday to see how he’s doing. Give me a call if his condition deteriorates at all.”

Kuja looked at the doctor and nodded. “He’ll be alright?”

“I had no trouble removing the bullet, so he should be fine with some rest.” Dr. Bunansa adjusted his glasses. “He’ll be in a fairly large amount of pain when he wakes up, as the bullet was nearly lodged in his shoulder blade.”

“Is there anything you can give him? I don’t want him to suffer.”

The doctor scratched idly at the stubble on his chin. “For now we’ll just stick with aspirin, as much as his stomach can handle. I’m reluctant to go handing out morphine over something as simple as a single shot to the shoulder.” He waved a hand. “That stuff’s horribly addictive.”

“Alright.” Kuja looked down at the couch where Mateus was reclining. “I suppose I’ll have to cancel his appointments for the next few weeks.”

“If you’re nominating yourself as his nursemaid, I’ll write you out some instructions on changing the bandages.” Dr. Bunansa headed to the door. “I’ll send my bill to his brother.”

“Thank you, sir.”

After seeing the doctor out, Kuja returned to the sitting room and looked down at his partner. There was a wrinkle of pain between Mateus’s eyebrows, and his right hand was clenched at the surface of the blanket Kuja had draped over him. Kuja sat on the edge of the coffee table and watched him.

“I didn’t want you to be right, you know,” he said softly. “You’re always going on about how Shinra’s out to get you. I didn’t want you to be right.”

There was, of course, no response from Mateus. Kuja sat there, the edge of the table pressing uncomfortably into his thighs, for two hours, until finally there was a stirring on the couch. Mateus groaned, and then hissed in pain as he tried to flex his right arm.

“Ow, fuck, what the...” Mateus trailed off as he stopped squirming about on the blue couch and opened his eyes. “Oh.” His dark eyes flicked over to where Kuja was perched. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“You being shot? No.”

“How did I get here?”

“Ansem carried you, for the most part,” Kuja said. The dark skinned bodyguard had returned when Dr. Bunansa was just finishing making a bloody mess of Kuja’s office floor. He had looked relatively sheepish, at least to the extent that Ansem ever had any expressions. “He wasn’t able to catch whoever did this to you.”

“Shinra,” Mateus said with a grunt. Kuja sighed and looked at his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“You got shot, Mat. I’m just worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine. Won’t I?” Mateus glanced around. “Did the doctor already leave?”

“A few hours ago. He said you’d mend properly if you rested until it heals.”

“I see.” He shifted his weight a bit. “It was only a matter of time. I’m always at the windows. I suppose I’m surprised it took them so long to take a shot at me.”

“Mateus...”

“I’m fine.” He touched the bandages on his shoulder and made a face. “We’ll have to have the window replaced at your office.”

“I’m not going back there until you’re better,” Kuja said. 

“Don’t be silly. You have to get the mail, at least.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Mateus scowled for a moment. Kuja leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Mateus, you got shot. Take a break, okay?”

The older man gave a resigned sigh. “I suppose that I’m lucky that case was completed before this happened.”

“They would have never tried something so bold during the day. The shooter must have known you were going back late to your office and taken advantage of that.”

Mateus nodded. “Yes, it would seem that is the case. Miserable bastards.”

Kuja’s fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt. “I just want you to know, that if you had died, I would be very cross with you.”

“I’d be fairly cross with myself as well,” Mateus said. “Though, I must say that I’m not a fan of the pain of surviving.”

“Don’t say things like that. The pain is what lets you know you’re still alive.”

Mateus cast his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, Kuja. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Yeah, well...” Kuja rubbed at his nose. For a moment he was quiet, and then: “You fainted, back at the office, you know. Swooned like a woman in a movie.”

“I did not.”

“Well, maybe not that dramatically. But, you fainted.”

“I told you: I don’t do well with blood.” He gave a delicate sniff. “Why do you think I have other people do my dirty work for me?”

“I thought that was just a perk of your position.”

“It is, but it has added bonuses like not requiring you to do things that might make you faint in front of your boyfriend.”

Kuja patted Mateus’s knee. “I’ll just blame it on the pain and shock from being shot, alright?”

“Thank you.” Mateus covered Kuja’s hand with his own.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Mat. I’m just taking care of you.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Well, I want to. And you don’t get a choice in what I do and don’t want to do.” He squeezed Mateus’s knee. The older man looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I don’t suppose we can have sex right now, can we.”

“The doctor said you’re supposed to rest. I’m pretty sure you’ll hurt something if you fuck me now.”

“Pity.”

“Tell you what, though. If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a blow job later.”

Mateus grunted. “I suppose I could behave for a little while, if that’s my reward.”

Kuja smiled. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

 

A week later, Mateus’s shoulder wound had began to mend enough that he felt comfortable sitting up and not continually flopped on his left side in bed. Kuja was glad for that, because the older man could be quite fussy and difficult to work with when he was mildly disabled. He left Mateus sitting on the couch with a book and the radio playing, and went out to run a few errands. First, he stopped by his house. He had not been home since before Mateus had been shot, and Kuja felt the need to check in with his family, as well as pick up a few clean shirts.

It was quiet at home when he arrived. It was early in the afternoon, and the rest of his family was either off at work or school or off socializing. The only soul left in the house was Kuja’s younger brother. Zidane was seated at the kitchen table, perusing the morning newspaper while he ate what looked to Kuja like a late lunch. His brother’s honey blond head shifted as Kuja passed the kitchen door, and by the time Kuja reached his bedroom the cop was on his trail.

Zidane leaned on the doorframe. “Haven’t seen you home in awhile.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d come by, get some fresh clothes. See if I had any mail.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“At Mateus’s place, taking care of him, mostly.”

“Taking care of him? What, has he been sick?”

Kuja pulled over a dresser drawer and looked inside. “Oh, no. He got shot.”

“First I’ve heard of it. They didn’t report it to the police?”

“No.” Kuja shook his head and pulled out a pair of socks. “They wanted to take care of it themselves. Family business, you know.”

“I don’t want his family business to get you in trouble,” Zidane said. “But, you already knew that. Don’t know why I’m bothering wasting my breath to tell you that again.”

“Because you care about your family, just like Mateus cares about his.”

“That’s a different sort of caring, Kuja.”

Kuja opened the closet door and looked inside. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“What? No, of course not. You know I’m not the implying type.”

“Because, it sounds like you’re trying to imply something.”

“Kuja...” Zidane shook his head. “Do you think he cares about you? Like, really cares? That you’re not just some passing fancy of his, until he finds a woman he likes?”

Kuja gritted his teeth. He turned his head to the side to look at his younger brother. “Yes, I do think he really cares. And, if I’m wrong, like I’ve been about every other man I’ve been with, well... That’s my problem, Zidane. Not yours.” He folded a shirt over his arm. “I’ll take care of myself, thanks.”

“Will you really?”

He gave a frustrated sigh. “Why does it feel that we have this conversation every time I come home?”

“Maybe because I haven’t had any success yet in convincing you to act otherwise.”

“I don’t need you nagging me, Zidane! I’m twenty four years old--I’m an adult, you don’t have to keep treating me like I’m some stupid child!”

“Then, maybe you should stop acting like one.” Zidane crossed his arms over his chest. “Or, have you already forgotten that I had to save your ass three months ago because of your involvement with the mob?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten that,” Kuja said. He stuffed the clothes he had gathered into a bag. “And it’s not like I don’t appreciate that you did that. I’d probably be dead by now if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“Dead or worse,” Zidane said. “You think Rufus Shinra is above having Mateus’s men tortured? Goodness knows that Mateus’s bodyguard should have never been let out of jail. At least working for the Palamecias he’s putting that creative energy to some good use...” He trailed off as he found that Kuja’s eyes were fixated on him. “What?”

“When did you start talking so informally about my employer?”

Zidane shrugged and glanced away. “Since you started dating him, I guess.”

Kuja narrowed his eyes. “How long?”

“I said--”

“How long have you been on the Palamecias’ payroll, Zidane?”

For a moment Zidane said nothing, until there was an angry snap of his name from his brother. “Last year. Since not long before the Zanarkand got busted.”

“You miserable, judgmental asshole!” 

Zidane uncrossed his arms and held his hands up. “Hey, keeping three girlfriends spoiled and oblivious takes a lot of money in this day and age. I needed the extra cash.”

“How dare you second guess what I do, when you aren’t any better off than I am?”

“I did it to help keep an eye out on things for you,” Zidane said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s not like I had much of a choice. It was them or Rufus Shinra, and since you were already involved with them the Palamecias seemed like the lesser of the two evils.” He watched as his brother fumed. “I’m sorry, Kuja. It’s just something I had to do.”

“So you already knew about Mateus getting shot, then.”

Zidane looked at the floor. “Yeah, of course.”

Kuja picked up his bag and shoved his way past his brother. “Fuck you, Zidane.”

“Kuja--”

“No, just forget it. Fuck you. Fuck you, and the good intentions you rode in on.”

Zidane watched his older brother storm out of the house. He sighed.

“Well, fuck me.”

 

Kuja picked up the mail at Mateus’s office and then headed back to his town house. His anger towards Zidane had cooled by the time he got back to Mateus’s place, and if Mateus sensed that anything had ruffled his lover’s feathers, he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t even acknowledge Kuja’s return until after the younger man had stomped upstairs, deposited his bag, and returned to the sitting room. Then Mateus looked up from the book he was reading.

“This writing is absolute trash, you know. I don’t know how you can stand to read it.”

Kuja went into the kitchen. He called over his shoulder. “Sometimes it’s nice to read just for the sake of entertainment, Mateus. Not everything has to be deep and meaningful.”

“I know, but this is the sort of thing written for bored housewives, not men.”

Kuja’s voice rang out from the kitchen: “My mother likes to read history books sometimes.”

“Well, then she’s clearly not bored, is she?” Mateus closed the book.

Kuja returned with a bottle of soda. “I suppose not.” He got a pile of envelopes out from his bag and sat next to Mateus. “You’ve accrued an awful lot of letters in just a week.”

Mateus made no move to take the mail. “What can I say? I’m a popular fellow.”

Kuja flipped through the envelopes, occasionally flicking one in Mateus’s direction. The older man picked them up, reading the addresses with a disinterested expression. “Most of these should have been sent to my brother. Or his secretary.”

“I’ll have to forward them, then.” Kuja tossed another envelope, and then stopped at the sight of a postcard on the current top of the pile. It bore a black and white picture of a bridge, and had a red border and sweeping red letter proclaiming the message ‘Greetings from California!’.

“What’s that?”

“A postcard.” Kuja turned it over. There was the address to Mateus’s office, with the notation ‘to: Secretary’, and a message written in a sweeping, exaggerated handwriting.

“To my dearest doll--California is lovely. Bought a small house with a vineyard. It is pleasantly dull. Miss you. Hope you are well. You will forever live in my memory as a young and beautiful thing, as you should. Best of wishes and good-bye. -- K.P.”

Kuja’s eyes watered as he re-read the message.

“Kuja? What’s wrong?” Mateus began to lean toward him, but then winced in pain and stopped. “What’s it say?”

“It’s for me,” Kuja said, his voice soft and cracking. “It’s from Kefka.”

Mateus blinked. “I thought he ran away.”

“He did. He just... sent me a postcard to say goodbye.” A tear streaked down the side of Kuja’s nose, and he hurriedly wiped it away. Another tear joined the first. Mateus stared at him for a moment.

“Were you in love with that man, Kuja?”

“No.” Kuja shook his head and wiped ineffectively at his eyes. “I just... Sometimes it feels like everyone that I care about goes away.”

“That’s often the nature of things.”

“I get dumped or left behind.” Kuja turned the postcard over and looked at the picture on its front. “Are you going to go away, too?”

“No, of course not.”

“Sometimes it feels like you’re going away,” he mumbled. “I can’t explain it. Like you’re withdrawing from the world.”

Mateus rested his hand on Kuja’s knee. “I’m not going anywhere, Kuja. My place is here, whether I like it or not.”

He looked at Mateus’s hand. “Do I make it worse?”

“Not at all. You make it tolerable. And you’ve been good to me. Good for me. So much better than anyone else I’ve ever been with.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” The smile that came to Mateus’s features was tired, but sincere. “Someday I will have to remember to thank Seymour for sending you my way.”

Kuja set the postcard down in his lap. He looked at the next envelope in the mail pile. “I wasn’t a good thing for Seymour. Why am I better for you? You’re not even... You don’t like men.”

“I like you, and that’s what counts.”

Kuja swallowed, and then nodded. “As long as that’s the case, then I’m fine. Just...” His eyes strayed to the postcard. “If you ever want me gone, just say so. If I stop being a good thing for you, please, don’t drag it out.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

 

The summer dragged on from the spring, hot and unrelentingly dry. Rain did not fall over the city of Alexandra, and the bells and sirens of the fire brigade became a daily occurrence as the town began to burn. Some of the fires were accidental, but many more were the work of arsonists. Kuja had listened in on a conversation between Mateus and Belias, where the elder complained that Shinra and his goons were using the fire season as a way of burning down Palamecian properties and letting Nature take the blame. 

Mateus had healed physically. The wound on his right shoulder was little more now than a tender, unpleasant pink scar welded into his skin. But Kuja’s lover had become increasingly restless and taciturn. Since the shooting, he had stopped idling in Kuja’s office at the window, and would spend most of his time in his own office, seated at his desk, staring at the door. Kuja would go and check on him regularly, but it felt, increasingly, that Mateus wanted nothing to do with him while at work. He wanted nothing to do with anyone.

To say that their home life was better would be a slight exaggeration of the truth. Mateus was not cruel to Kuja, no, but his silence rarely lapsed between the office and his townhouse. On the nights when he did stay with Mateus, Kuja felt a strange distance between them, even when their bodies were pressed together. He wanted to ask what was troubling Mateus, but was afraid of the answer he might receive. So he said nothing about it, and the two of them sat wordless, the silence only filled by the music and chatter from the radio.

Late on a Saturday evening, Kuja returned from his usual dancing at the Zanarkand. It was mid-July, nearly two years after he had first met Mateus. He had thought about this while at the club, and wanted to bring it up when he got back to Mateus’s place. But when he let himself in the front door, the thought faded away. Mateus was on the blue couch, staring at the wall, endlessly twisting the ring on his finger.

“Hey. You waited up for me? You didn’t have to do that.”

It took a beat longer than it should have for Mateus to acknowledge his presence. He blinked his dark eyes and glanced away from the wallpaper. “Mm.”

“Mateus? Are you alright?”

“I...” The older man’s gaze shifted away again, and he looked uncomfortable. “I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

“Oh? Do you want me to get you something? I can make you some tea, just let me get changed.”

Mateus looked at Kuja. “No, that’s alright. I think it might be better if you went home tonight.” He licked his lips. “I don’t want you to get whatever’s got a hold of me.”

“If you think I should...” Kuja pressed his fingertips lightly to Mateus’s forehead. “You are a little warm.”

“I don’t want you to get sick, too,” Mateus said softly.

“Well, if you insist.” Kuja sighed. “But, please, don’t be afraid to call me if you need something.”

“I will.” Mateus pulled Kuja down and kissed him. It was deep and sweet, and for a moment Kuja considered not leaving.

“I love you.” He whispered the words against Mateus’s lips.

The reply was just as soft. “I love you, too.”

 

Kuja went home, and slept in his own bed for the first time in days. It felt foreign to him, and he did not sleep well. The sound of fire bells disturbed his dreams during the night.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This includes both Chapter 19 and the epilogue posted together. Thank you for reading.

Chapter Nineteen

On Sunday morning, Kuja had a headache. He wondered idly, as he got out of bed, if he had perhaps gotten a cold from Mateus. He wrote that off as being silly. You didn’t just get sick overnight, did you? No, he supposed not. The room was already otherwise vacated when he got up. Sephiroth had gone off somewhere, perhaps to church with their parents. Kuja knew that he would be gone most of the afternoon, stocking shelves at the shop where he worked.

It was nearly mid-morning by the time he got dressed and headed outside. He thought he would do something nice for Mateus, to help improve his gloomy mood. Breakfast from one of Mateus’s favorite diners would probably do the trick, and so Kuja headed off down the sidewalk. The morning was already warm and uncomfortable, and there was something unpleasant in the nearly stagnant air that he could not place.

He had only gone a block when a glance behind him showed that Ansem was a few paces behind. This was nothing new, and so he did not pay it any mind. It was to his simple surprise when Ansem caught up with him and grabbed him by the elbow. He tugged Kuja to a sudden stop.

“What’s the meaning of this? Let me go!” Kuja tried to pull his arm free, but Ansem’s grip was firm.

“You can’t go.”

“What?” Perhaps Mateus really was sick, if he had sent Ansem to prevent him from visiting. But, couldn’t he have just called?

“You can’t go,” Ansem said again. With his free hand he reached into his jacket and pulled out a few sheets of newspaper. Kuja took them. They were from that day’s Sunday paper, printed only a few hours before. Kuja stared at the headline.

FIRE RAVAGES 2ND STREET  
TWO DEAD; NINE INJURED

“What’s this? What does this have to do with--” He stopped and reread the headline. Second street was the road that where Mateus’s townhouse was located.

Ansem’s expression was as neutral as ever. “I’m sorry, Kuja.”

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” Kuja shook the newspaper at him.

“You can’t go, because there’s nothing to go to.” Ansem’s words were blunt and hit Kuja harder than his fist likely could have.

“Don’t say things like that. Just--just don’t. It’s not funny.” He shoved the newspaper back at the other man, and Ansem released his grip.

“See for yourself, then. I warned you.”

Kuja hurried across town. He did his best to not break into a run--it was Sunday, and he had to pretend to be a gentlemen even if something horrible was gnawing at his chest. As he crossed town, the smell in the air increased. He was on Third Street when his brain figured out what the smell reminded him off. It was like a campfire that had gone unattended and burned itself out. He crossed through a side street on his usual route to Mateus’s house, and came to a complete stop as he stepped onto the Second Street sidewalk.

Along a length of the street--spanning at least five or six buildings--everything was blackened and charred. Up and down the street people were standing in little groups, staring at the destruction with a mixture of fascination and horror. Police officers were doing their best to keep people away from the burned buildings.

Ansem’s voice murmured just behind Kuja’s head. “They found him on his couch. He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Dead, Kuja.”

Kuja shook his head. “What? No, Mateus...” He trailed off, staring at the blackened mess that had been Mateus’s town house. The second and third floors had collapsed down into the first. There were firemen and policemen standing outside the building. Smoke still curled from some of the wreckage. “Mateus?” He looked up at Ansem. The bodyguard was looking at him, and not the building.

“I shouldn’t have gone home last night.”

“But...” Kuja looked again to the town house, as though if he looked away enough times he could set things right. “That’s impossible. I just saw him a few hours ago. He didn’t feel good.” Kuja swallowed at a painful lump that was forming in his throat. “He said he loved me. He hardly ever says that to me, Ansem.”

The older man’s brows lowered, and his lips pursed into a frown. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Is there?” Kuja shook his head. “Make this all a lie. Make it all a bad dream.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Then just... just...” The world tipped around him, and the only thing that prevented Kuja from crashing to the pavement was Ansem’s strong arm breaking his fall.

“I will take you home.”

“Why?” Kuja weakly struggled against his grip. His head felt unpleasant and heavy. “Why care? Everyone says that you’re a horrible person.”

Ansem hesitated. “That I may be. But, I must fulfill my duties toward Mr. Palamecia.”

“But, he’s...” Kuja couldn’t say the word.

“I know. But, I promised him last year, that if something were to happen to him, I would make sure you were kept secure.”

“Secure?” 

“From Shinra, of course.”

“Shinra?” Kuja looked toward the burned buildings again. “Did they do this?”

“It is a distinct possibility.” Ansem squeezed his arm. “Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

“I don’t want to leave,” Kuja said. “I can’t leave him.”

“He’s already gone. They took his body to the morgue just after dawn.”

“To the morgue...” This time, it took both of Ansem’s arms to keep Kuja from hitting the ground.

 

He did not remember of what happened after that. He dimly remembered being half-carried home, like some wretched drunk, and being handed over to his mother’s care. His mother had fretted over him and sent him to bed when Kuja could not, would not tell her what had happened to him. He spent the remainder of the day under the covers, head pounding and heart aching. His mother checked on him throughout the day, but otherwise he was left alone until Sephiroth came back from work.

Sephiroth said nothing when he entered the room. He went about his own business, changing out of the clothes he had worn to church and the shop, and then left the room for dinner. He was still quiet when he returned, but instead of ignoring Kuja, he made his way to the other side of the room and sat on the edge of his step-brother’s bed. Kuja was face down on the covers, face obscured by the pillow. Sephiroth brushed his fingers lightly over Kuja’s hair.

“Can I get you anything?”

Kuja shook his head.

“I’ll get you something from the leftovers.”

For a few minutes, Sephiroth departed the room, but then he returned with a plate. He set it down on Kuja’s nightstand, and then retreated to his own bed. The plate went untouched, and before he turned in, Sephiroth returned it to the kitchen. In the morning, Kuja had rolled over. He stared at the ceiling with tear-reddened eyes, violet brows drawn together. Sephiroth sat on the edge of his bed again and stroked his hair, before going off to work. An hour or so later, Kuja’s mother entered the room.

“Kuja, sweetheart? There are some men here from the papers. They want to talk about... about your employer.”

“I’ve nothing to say,” Kuja said, his voice little more than a croak. His mother frowned.

“I’ll send them away, then.” She twisetd a dish towel in her hands. “You should come have something to eat, Kuja. I know you’re upset, but you should still eat.”

Kuja said nothing.

“I don’t know exactly what went on between you and that Palamecia fellow, but I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

“When does it stop hurting?”

She frowned. “That depends on you. It never completely stops. I still miss your father.”

Kuja was quiet. His mother sighed.

“I expect to see you at the table for lunch, at least.”

 

A few hours later, there was a soft knock at the door, and Zidane entered the room. He wore his police uniform and an uneasy expression. Kuja had not moved on the bed. Zidane closed the door behind him and crossed the room.

“Hey, Kuja, I know you’re in a bad place right now, but I need to talk to you.”

“Why.”

“Because if I don’t talk to you here, you’ll have to go to the station and be questioned.”

Kuja blinked a few times and looked at his brother. “Why?”

“Because, well, you were probably one of the last people to see Mateus Palamecia alive. And since his death is being investigated as a murder, we have to get a statement from you.”

Kuja blinked again, and slowly, stiffly, sat up. He rubbed at his face. “A murder?”

Zidane hesitated. “You haven’t read the papers, I take it.”

“No.”

“Oh, well...” Zidane shifted uneasily on his feet and took off his hat. He perched at the foot of Kuja’s bed. “I guess maybe it’s best if you hear it from someone who’s family, and not someone else.” He looked at his hat. “When they autopsied Mr. Palamecia’s body, what was left of it, they found that it had been shot three times in the chest. He didn’t die from the fire, he was murdered beforehand.”

“Oh, my god.” Kuja covered his mouth with his hand and turned his face to the wall. 

“I’m sorry. Our current theory is that Shinra had him killed, and then burned his place down to try and make it look like he died in the fire.”

“But, why?”

“You know why.” Zidane sighed. “I’m sorry, Kuja, I really am. But, I need to tell me about the last time you saw Mateus Palamecia.”

Kuja swallowed, his hand rubbing an uneasy path from his lips and down over his chin to his throat. “Um, it was late Saturday night, after I left the Zanarkand. Probably close to midnight. I went to Mat’s place like usual, but he was... out of it. He said he didn’t feel good, thought he was getting a cold. He sent me home.” Kuja’s voice squeaked out the last few words: “That was the last I saw of him.”

“Did you notice anything unusual in the neighborhood when you left?”

Kuja frowned as he thought. “No, not really. I mean, there’s always a few people milling about. Rufus Shinra has had men watching Mateus’s place for years.”

“So, nothing that would have made you think there was about to be an attack.”

“No.” Kuja scratched at his neck. “Are you going to do something to Shinra?”

“There’s nothing we can really do, directly.” Zidane pursed his lips and shook his head. “To be honest, the department seems rather keen on just sweeping this all under the rug as quickly as possible. There’s some federal bigwigs coming to town next Monday, Prohibition enforcers mostly, and my boss doesn’t really want them to know we’re having trouble with mob families killing each other.”

“I don’t suppose it matters,” Kuja murmured. “It won’t bring him back.”

“No, it won’t. I’m sorry.” Zidane looked at his brother. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Kuja’s hands dropped into his lap, and his fingers wove themselves together. “I don’t know. I suppose I should go by the office to... to get some things from my desk, before they bar me from the place.”

“Would you like me to go along? You know, police escort and all. You did work for a mob underboss, after all.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, just give me a few minutes. I probably look a mess.”

“Take you time, Kuj. I’m here for you.”

 

Once Kuja had washed his face and brushed his hair and put on fresh clothing, he felt well enough to leave the house. He did not in particular care what anyone thought of his appearance at that point in time, but still, he could not let himself go out in public looking a mess. That would be too disgraceful a thing to do, even though in his heart he did not care about such things right then. His mind was having a very difficult time pulling itself away from the image of the burned townhouse, and what had happened inside of it. He could not stop thinking of Saturday night and the last time he had seen Mateus. What had been said. He could not stop thinking about Mateus. He took the usual, familiar walking route to the building he had worked in with Mateus, and a little part of his mind wistfully, uncontrollably hoped that maybe Mateus would be there when he got there. He had to stop and collect himself when the building drew into sight. It took everything he had to not cry again.

Zidane was there with him, as he had promised. There was a reporter loitering outside the entrance to the office building, but Zidane was quick to shoo them away when they started trying to hassle Kuja for information about Mateus Palamecia. He supposed that it was fortunate that so far he had only heard people refer to him as Mateus’s ‘personal assistant’ and nothing more intimate. He wasn’t sure he would be able to forgive himself if he sullied Mateus’s name after he was dead. He briefly considered mentioning that to his brother, but knew Zidane would not understand. Zidane only knew Mateus as the Emperor, not the actual man. He was only helping Kuja out of familial obligation, not because he really understood what Kuja was feeling. How could anyone be foolish enough to love the underboss of the Palamecia family?

But Kuja had, and he still did. Love was not something so easily moved past.

There were a few men standing in the hallway on the second floor. Kuja tensed at their appearance, until he recognized them as some of Belias Palamecia’s goons. Kuja did his best to keep his expression neutral, though on the inside he wanted to yell at the men to leave Mateus’s things alone. It was pointless to scold them. Mateus was gone, and he had kept little in the way of personal things in his office. Mateus’s office had been where he had went to be the Emperor, not himself. Still, knowing that men were going through his papers made Kuja angry on the inside.

The men ignored Kuja and Zidane as they approached Kuja’s office. He opened the door, and they went inside. Kuja was dismayed to find that the men had already started going through this room as well. The rug on the floor had been removed, and the faint blood stain near the window was again visible on the floorboards. Kuja went over to the brown spots and stared.

“Why did they miss then? Why didn’t they kill him?”

“I guess it was meant to be a warning shot,” Zidane said. “I don’t suppose he took the message.”

Kuja wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t. Mateus had been a wreck since he had been shot, even though he had struggled to maintain a facade of normalcy around his peers. Kuja had seen him behind closed doors. He had known. And yet, everything he had known was quickly beginning to no longer make sense. He shook his head and went over to his desk. The file drawer had been pulled open and emptied of its papers. The top drawers had been opened as well, though the only things Kuja saw missing were Mateus’s calendar and planner. Kuja retrieved a few books and other sundries that he had kept stashed in the drawers. His fingers strayed over the lid of a jar of petroleum jelly, nearly empty, but he did not pick it up.

“Hey, what’s a cop doin’ here?”

Kuja jerked at the sounding of a voice from the doorway. It was one of the goons. He was looking uneasily at Zidane. Kuja cleared his throat.

“It’s alright, he’s with me. He’s on the payroll.”

The goon looked at Kuja, and after a moment recognition glimmered on his thick features. “Oh, you’re the secretary. Good thing you showed up today, the locks are bein’ changed tomorrow.” He looked keenly at Kuja. “You were his little bitch boy, weren’t you? Here. He left this on his desk. You can have it to remember him by.” The man flicked something silver toward Kuja, and he caught it with both hands.

It was Mateus’s pocket watch. Kuja nodded at the man.

“Yes, thank you.”

Zidane waited until the goon had continued down the hallway before he spoke. “What’s that?”

Kuja ran his thumb over the lid. “Mateus’s watch. I got it for him for his birthday. I wonder why he left it here this weekend.” He flipped open the lid and looked at the face. The second hand had stopped moving, and the time was wrong. The watch hand likely not been wound since Friday morning--Kuja could still remember Mateus seated at the table while his fingers nimbly turned the winding crown. Kuja had been complaining about the lack of rain. 

His eyes started to water, and he hurriedly clicked the lid shut. His fingers curled around the watch, and he shook his head.

“We should go, before they throw us out.” He put the watch into his pants pocket.

“Did you get everything?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Kuja picked up his books. He looked at the top one and frowned. He had borrowed it from Seymour months ago, and never returned it. “I should see how Seymour is holding up.”

“Seymour? Your ex?”

“Yeah. He was... well, probably the closest thing to a best friend Mateus had. They’d known each other since they were school boys.” Kuja sighed. “He’s probably half drunk himself into a coma by now.”

“Do you think he’d want to see you right now?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t made any attempt to contact me.” Kuja headed to the door. “He probably spent all day yesterday in church. But today... I don’t know. It’s only been a day and a half. Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. You know? Wait for him to reach out to me. We’re still sort of friends, after all.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah... yes. If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow, I’ll go check on him on Wednesday morning.”

 

Kuja returned to his home and his bed. His head still hurt, and visiting the office had left him feeling even more drained than he had felt before. He spent the remainder of the day in bed, and the next day as well, leaving only when his bladder insisted upon it. His mother continued nursing him like he was a sick child, bringing him water and food throughout the day. Kuja did not have much of an appetite, but still forced himself to eat and drink enough to keep his mother happy. He did not hear from Seymour, and so on Wednesday, after eating a meager breakfast, he dressed and went over to Seymour’s apartment. He walked alone, although he was quite certain that if he had looked he would have found Ansem still shadowing him. Kuja hesitated before knocking on the door to Seymour’s apartment. He hadn’t been here in more than a year, not since they had stopped being intimate.

Seymour was, as Kuja had expected, drunk when he answered the door. Not as plastered as Kuja would have thought, but still drunk enough that the redness in his eyes might had been excused as being caused by the liquor and not by crying.

“Hey. Come on in. Have a seat. Have a drink.” Seymour waved a hand and held the door open for Kuja. The younger man entered the still familiar space. He declined a drink and sat down on the couch. Seymour sat next to him, and took a gulp of something amber colored before speaking again.

“How you holding up?” Seymour looked down at Kuja.

“I don’t know,” Kuja said. “My head hurts, and I just want to cry. Want this to be a bad dream that I’ll wake up from soon.”

“I know that feeling.” Seymour took another gulp. “Matty was my best friend. What am I supposed to do without his support?”

“You’ll get by.”

“Oh, sure I will. But, I’m probably going to have to close the Zanarkand. Or sell out. Or cave to Shinra. Nothing good.”

“That was going to happen anyway, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but not so soon.” Seymour rubbed at his nose. He set his empty glass down on the floor and slumped back into the cushions. “The, uh, the funeral is on Sunday. You gonna go?”

“I should,” Kuja said.

“Will you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He owed Mateus that much, didn’t he? “What about you?”

“Of course I’ll be there. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t go to his funeral?” Seymour rubbed at his face. “Besides, hardly anyone who will be there will be someone who actually knew Matty, or cared about him. I mean, sure, his family will be there, but mostly it’ll just be associates there hoping to make good face with Belias.”

“I love Mateus,” Kuja said. “I have to be there.”

Seymour sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

 

On the morning of Mateus’s funeral the heavy gray clouds that filled the sky relented for the first time in months. Kuja woke that day to the sound of rain, and while it should have gladdened his heart, it did not. The break in the drought did not fix other problems. It would not bring his lover back. And so as he rolled out of bed and went to the window, he stared out at the gray morning and felt only sorrow.

“You going to church?”

“Hm?” Kuja looked over his shoulder at his step-brother. Sephiroth was brushing his hair, which had grown so long that it was nearly to his bottom. “You need a haircut.”

“I kind of like it like this,” Sephiroth said. “Are you going?”

“No. Mateus’s funeral is this morning.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth looked at his brush. “Do you need someone to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine going by myself, Seph. Besides, Seymour will be there.”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t have to coddle me like a child.” Kuja rubbed at his forehead, which had begun to ache again.

“I’m not coddling you. I just want to help you. It’s only fair that I do, after all you’ve done for me.”

Kuja sighed. “You don’t owe me any sort of debt, Sephiroth. You don’t owe me anything at all.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to let you suffer alone.”

“Maybe that’s what I want to do.”

Kuja went to the funeral alone. He wore black and stood under a black umbrella that Seymour held up for him. The service was not very long, and though it was well attended, Kuja knew that most of the people there were only present out of obligation. Afterwards, Seymour invited Kuja to brunch, but he turned it down and started away from the cemetery on his own. He had gone only a short distance when he noticed Ansem waiting for him underneath the overhang at a business’s windows. Kuja stopped a few feet away, inclining the umbrella to look at the man.

“Ansem.”

“Mr. Tribal.”

“You didn’t go to the funeral?”

“I was standing a few rows behind you.” Ansem’s expression was blank. Kuja had long ago given up in trying to figure out what the tiny inflections in Ansem’s face meant, and he was in no mood now to start trying. “He would be glad that you were here.”

“Yes, well. We were lovers, weren’t we?” Kuja swallowed. “What sort of lover would I be, if I did not see him on his way?”

Ansem inclined his head slightly. “You are a better man than people of Mr. Palamecia’s ilk deserve to associate with.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Kuja said. “I don’t suppose it matters now, does it?”

“Will you continue to work for the family?”

“I don’t think so, no.” He looked at his hands, clad in black leather that clutched at the handle of the umbrella. “I don’t really have an interest in doing so. I only went to work for Mateus as a favor for Seymour, really.”

“I understand.”

“What will you do?”

“Go back to my family.”

Kuja stared at Ansem for a moment, unable to imagine what sort of family Ansem had been neglecting for the years he had been working for Mateus. He just forced a smile and nodded.

“Well, good. They probably miss you.”

“They probably think me dead, but, I do not suppose I deserve better.” Ansem shrugged minutely. He reached into his jacket pocket. Kuja reflexively tensed as the gray morning light glinted off the grip of the gun strapped to his chest. “He left this with me, after he was shot, to give you if something happened to him.” Ansem pulled a plain envelope out from inside his jacket. Kuja took it, holding it up close to his face. His name was written there in Mateus’s handwriting.

“What is this?”

“I do not know. A letter, I would suppose. He did not tell me.” Ansem smoothed the front of his jacket and resumed looking impassively at Kuja. “He only said that it was for your eyes only.”

Kuja frowned. At this close proximity, a faint whiff of Mateus’s usual cologne could be smelled, clinging to the envelope. He hurriedly tucked the envelope away inside his own jacket. “Thank you, Ansem. I will read it later, in private.”

Ansem nodded. “Good. Now then, I have fulfilled my final duty to Mateus Palamecia, and must be on my way.” He stared at Kuja again for a moment. “Good-bye, Mr. Tribal.”

“Good-bye, Mr. deGaia.”

Ansem gave a little half bow, and then stepped out into the rain. He paused, and looked back at Kuja. “A free word of advice. I would advise caution here in Alexandria. Just because you no longer work for Mateus Palamecia, does not mean you are freed from the scrutiny of the Shinra family.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Ansem nodded. He turned away and strode off down the sidewalk. Kuja watched him until he was out of sight, gone forever into the shadows of the city. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the envelope there. The wind gusted, and Kuja lowered the umbrella to keep the rain out of his face.  
He felt his spirit sink as the church bells chimed the hour. 

 

That night, Kuja sat on his bed, the envelope delivered to him by Ansem on the covers next to him. He held in his hands a lone sheet of paper. Kuja had been seated like this for quite some time when Sephiroth entered the room. The older man said nothing at first, and simply watched his younger step-brother stare dismally at the sheet of paper. After a few minutes he cleared his throat.

“What do you have there?”

Kuja gave a bodily jerk, eyes snapping back into focus as his gaze shifted rapidly from the paper to Sephiroth. He quickly folded the paper and stuffed it back into the envelope.

“Just a letter. Private stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“You didn’t look too happy about whatever was written there.”

“Yes, well.” Kuja looked at the envelope. “I suppose it was that sort of letter.”

“What did it say?”

He frowned and shook his head. “That’s really not any of your business.”

“Okay, I’m sorry that I asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s just... it’s private, that’s all.”

Sephiroth nodded. “So, the funeral was today?”

Kuja licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. It was a nice service. Too bad it was raining, though.”

“We need the rain.”

“I know, it just seems to make everything worse.” Kuja looked at the envelope still clutched in his hands. “Like something you’d see in a movie, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sephiroth turned his back to Kuja while he changed clothes. “How are you doing?”

Kuja’s voice was soft. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to just curl into a ball and go to sleep and never wake up.”

“I remember that feeling,” Sephiroth said. “You just have to fight it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to fight it. I’m not ready to, at least.” Kuja shook his head slowly. “The man I love has been dead only a week. I think I deserve more time to let him go.”

Sephiroth stared down at him. “Just... don’t do anything stupid, alright? I know you feel alone, and I know you’re miserable. But, you’re not alone. You have us. Your family.”

Kuja looked up at him for a moment, before returning his gaze to the envelope. “That’s all I really have now.”

“It’s better than nothing at all.” Sephiroth smiled. “You helped me remember that, you know.”

“Did I?” Kuja frowned. “I guess that was easier to believe when I didn’t feel like giving up.”

“Then, take your time.” Sephiroth watched as Kuja tucked the envelope under his pillow, and then flopped onto it. He tugged a blanket up over himself, up to his ears. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

 

Epilogue

On a rainy Tuesday morning, a week after Mateus Palamecia was buried, Kuja Tribal disappeared. He had spent most of the preceding week in bed, and so no one in his family expected him to not be there when they returned home for lunch that day. No one had seen him leave, and no on knew where he had gone. One of the neighbors reported having seen some of the Shinra family’s thugs in the neighborhood that day. His family waited, but Kuja did not return home. After two days they began to look for him. On the third day, having had no luck, they went to the police. The search continued for some time, but no trace of the young man was found. In the end, the police determined that Kuja was most likely ‘disappeared’ by one of the Mafia families, and that his remains simply had not yet been discovered. A memorial marker was placed for him in the Castle Street cemetery, and his family mourned the loss of their loved one.

 

It wasn’t so wrong, was it? To run away like this--to let everyone he ever knew think that he was dead. To cast away his life, to leave behind everything that had happened. Gone would be the glorious, brilliant days of the past few years. Gone were the nights filled with music and alcohol and dancing, with a happy young man wearing a pretty little dress. The glimmer of life had all but gone out, and so it was best he would go along with it.  
He was nearing the final leg of his journey. The windows of the southbound train revealed a verdant landscape of fields and forests and impossibly small country towns. He had awoken from a nap to find the woman seated across from him giving him a curious look. He had turned his focus to the window. The train was passing through a field full of some green produce that he could not identify. There were dark, purple and blue thunderheads looming on the horizon, but the immediate area was still bright and sunny. He sighed and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the piece of paper that was hidden inside his vest. Aside from a small bag of clothes, it was all he had left of his past.

“Are you alright, young man?” The woman seated across from him was still staring at him. He briefly considered chastising her for her lack of manners, but decided against it.

“I’m fine,” he said, and returned his gaze to the windows.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind, something that’s troubling you. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself, dearie.” The women opened a book and turned her attention away from him.

He sighed internally, and not for the first time on this long trip found himself wondering if he was doing the wrong thing. Perhaps he should have at least left a letter for them. No, they would have sent someone to find him, if they knew he was alive. Disappearing, letting his old life die, was so much easier if he cut off ties completely.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have left at all? Was he really any better than Sephiroth in that regard? It had taken years, but he had finally started to recover, to go back to being a fairly normal human being. No, he couldn’t have stayed. He did not have the resolve to carry on. He knew he had lessened himself somehow, being so attached to an older man that he could not function without him. He didn’t care.

He watched a haze of gray extend from the clouds to the ground. The train would be stopping at a station soon, and it would be time for him to disembark. He had no exact idea what he would find when he did. He had taken a new path, a lonely one, and he did not know what he would find at the end. 

 

It was a rainy evening in Savannah, Georgia. The sleepy southern city had mostly shut down already for the evening, and so there was no one out to witness a lone taxi cab making its way on an empty dirt road heading out to the beaches. The car stopped where a row of small beach houses lined the seashore. After a few minutes, a man emerged from the taxi. He was wearing a black coat and a black hat over his violet hair. The taxi pulled away, leaving him alone in the dark, rainy night. He darted through the rain to the front door of one of the houses, and knocked.

After a few minutes, the door opened. Just a crack at first, and then thrown the rest of the way open. Inside was a tall man wearing delicate reading glasses over his dark violet eyes. His blond hair had been cropped short. He reached for the man outside, ignoring his rain drenched clothes as he pulled him close.

“Kuja.”

Kuja smiled and stepped in out of the rain and into the other man’s arm. “Mateus.”

The End


End file.
